


Silver Demons

by rabid_plotbunny



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-03 21:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 60,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17885642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabid_plotbunny/pseuds/rabid_plotbunny
Summary: Sephiroth fell into the Nibel reactor's Mako reservoir during the Nibelheim Incident and ended up somewhereotherthan the bottom.





	1. Chapter 1

At first there was only the shock that came from being defeated by a nobody. He couldn't understand how it had happened; even with the gaping wound in his torso - given to him by that same nobody, who had somehow managed to sneak up on him when he was distracted by his first glimpse of Mother - there should have been no contest. Even at his weakest, he was a hundred times stronger than even a SOLDIER third, let alone some nameless regular.

And yet that regular had somehow managed to not only lift him off his feet - a feat that should have been physically impossible considering his increased weight from all Hojo's enhancing tinkering - but also managed to hurl him off of the catwalk towards the glowing pool of the Mako reservoir below.

He blamed the shock and Mother's infuriated screaming in his head for his inability to stop his fall. There were enough pipes, service ladders and maintenance catwalks that he could have if he'd tried.

Something stopped him, though; the same little voice inside that had been crying out in protest as he destroyed Nibelheim. The one that told him that maybe it would be best not to live through this; that maybe it was all he deserved. Hadn't he spent his life in service to Shinra, enforcing their greedily expanding borders and ruthlessly slaying any man or monster that opposed him? Hadn't he led entire expeditions for the sole purpose of eliminating the monsters that appeared around the reactors and lifestream pools? He'd discovered the truth in the library beneath the Shinra mansion; that he was one of those monsters. Or maybe he was worse. The other Mako-bred monsters actually looked like monsters. He was the only one that looked human. Or enough like one to fool everyone.

Even himself.

He knew the truth now, though. He was a monster.

He shouldn't be allowed to live.

Mother wouldn't stop screaming at him.

Even when he was in the town, covered in blood from Masamune-tip to elbow, Nibelheim a blazing inferno all around him, she hadn't been satisfied. Hadn't told him he'd done well, let alone praised him. He'd massacred an entire town and it hadn't been enough; she'd only screamed for more death, more blood, more destruction. Vengeance, revenge, genocide....

It was like having Shinra in his head, only instead of cries for more Mako, more land, more money, she wanted chaos and destruction.

He had already decided that he wouldn't go back to Shinra, even before he discovered the truth they had hidden from him all those years. He'd decided that he'd had enough of being used, of following pointless orders in the equally pointless pursuit of Shinra's money-grabbing. He wouldn't be used again.

Mother wouldn't stop screaming.

The reservoir with its condensed Mako ebbed and surged below, growing closer by the second as he refused to slow his fall. He couldn't avoid tensing up as he stared down at it, knowing how much it was going to hurt. He may have learned how to hide his reactions to the boosters and Mako showers Hojo gave him, but the feel of liquid fire surging through his veins and over his skin had never subsided; it was not something a person could grow accustomed to.

And with both the scratches Zack had managed to inflict on him and the gaping wound in his middle where he'd been impaled by the Buster Sword, he knew it would be a million times worse.

He could only hope it would be, at least in part, a fitting penance for what he had done. He would take the pain, accept his death, and hope that it would be enough to blunt the rage he was sure to encounter once he joined the Lifestream and met those he'd sent there.

One thing he knew for sure, though: He would not. Be. Used. Again.

Mother was still screaming and raging when he threw her head away from him just before he hit the surface of the Mako pool.

The pain wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

It was worse.

Burning against his skin, rushing into his abdomen, searing him inside and out with the burn of a thousand suns, the rage of the Planet made real. It poured in his ears, his nose, surged down his throat when he could no longer hold back the screams.

And still he could feel himself falling, his speed unchecked despite the bellyflop into the pool of condensed Mako. At that rate, the bottom had to be fast approaching. Would it be the Mako or the impact that killed him? With his luck, he'd only hit hard enough to break his neck and paralyze him, but not hard enough to kill him, then there would be only the blaze of Mako as it ate away at him. How long would it take?

And just how deep _was_ the reactor pool? His eyes burning, vision blurred by involuntary tears, he could only see glowing green. At the rate he was falling, surely it had to be close--

He hit dirt and grass with enough force to hurl him into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but it was full night when he awoke. For a long time he didn't move, the residual pain from his last battle and Mako-bath still working its way through his system with spasm-inducing twinges.

He hurt. There wasn't a spot on his body - or in it - that didn't ache somehow or other. The cool night air felt like sandpaper against his sensitized skin, and it felt like there were sharp-edged boulders lining the insides of his eyelids. Despite the ache and pain, though, he could tell that his body was already working to heal him; the minor scratches and bruising already a thing of the past. He could feel the edges of the stab wound in his torso drawing together, feel the itch as tissue knit and healed.

His head was silent. Mother was gone.

Lying there on the ground, for the most part unable to move, he wasn't entirely sure what to think about that.

Now that the sense of disillusioned fear had lost its immediacy in the place of cold logic, he could only wonder at himself. He'd been a part of Shinra his whole life, first in the labs, then in SOLDIER. He knew how both Hojo and Shinra could spin whatever lies suited them in an attempt to get what they wanted. So why had he taken what he'd read in the basement library at face value? Was it simply because it confirmed what he'd begun to fear was true? Had he been that afraid that just seeing it written there had been enough to break him? He, who prided himself on his ability to remain unshaken no matter what he faced? To have it tested a single time, only to shatter?

It was not like him.

He supposed it could have been some combination of stress from his only friends' defections and deaths - or not, since Genesis had turned up to mock him yet again. And perhaps Mother had already begun influencing him by then? It would explain the headache he'd had since they had arrived at the little town.

Mother.

She wasn't like he'd expected. Like he'd hoped for on those rare times he'd allowed himself to hope, to dream. He'd always imagined her as someone soft, but firm, someone who loved him for him, someone who would bake him cookies and tuck him in at night and hug him and never let anyone hurt him ever again. Funny, before he met Zack, it had only been a vague wish for someone warm who would keep the pain and needles and tests away.

Instead, he got Her.

She wasn't warm. She wasn't soft. She would never do anything like cook for him or soothe him or give even the slightest comfort. She only screamed at him, made his head hurt and his nose bleed and nothing he had done at Her direction had ever been good enough.

He didn't want a mother like that.

But how did he know that she was? Shinra lies. Hojo lies. Why not Her - why not Jenova? He had only Hojo's notes and Her insistence that he was born of Her.

Wait.

The notes said that She was his mother, that he had been born from Her. But they also said that the fetus - that he - had begun being injected with Jenova Cells in the womb. If he truly was Her son, he should have had half of her genetics in him already, and there would have been no need to be injected with more. Then, or ever. So that meant... he wasn't Her son? That she was no more a related to him than, say, a kidney donor is related to whoever got it? That he had a real, living woman for a mother? Or had, at any rate. Knowing Hojo, it wouldn't surprise him if he'd gotten rid of her the moment Sephiroth slid out of her body. And, for that matter, for the first time, he was also realizing that he must also have a father because no matter who the woman was, she could not have made a baby all on her own.

He'd had parents? Somehow, the realization calmed him, soothed him.

He could not move, though he had no doubt the worst of the extreme sensitivity would be gone by morning, but somehow, he didn't mind. He would rest, and then he would see what he could find out about the woman who was his mother.

The real one.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was barely aware enough to wonder how he had gotten from the bottom of a Mako reactor to the outside.

Sleep claimed him.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't the first time Sephiroth had awakened to the sound of screaming but it didn't make it any less startling and his instinctive, sleep-dazzled effort to spring up in defense left him slumping back to the grass as the slowly-healing Buster-sword stab-wound protested the movement by sending hot flashes of pain shooting through him. As he lay there, jaw clenched in an effort to keep his last meal where he'd put it, he could hear rapidly-retreating footsteps followed by nothing more than the sound of birds, the rustling of leaves under the soft breeze.

Finally, he managed to push the pain and discomfort down enough that he was able to push himself into a sitting position and take stock of his surroundings.

He was most definitely _not_ in Nibelheim. The distinctive shapes of the Nibel Mountains were nowhere in sight, the air was too warm and humid, and the vegetation much too lush. He was sitting on the grass beside what seemed to be a dirt road, and everywhere he looked he could see green, growing things. The mountains he could see, rising into the sky in snow-capped glory, were none he could recall having seen before. Neither were the trees of any species he was familiar with, though there was some vague resemblance. In the distance and getting further away with every breath was a small group of women carrying laden baskets. That must have been the source of the screaming.

He sighed. Why was it that he was always greeted with either people throwing themselves at him in hopes of catching his attention, or fear?

Shrugging that aside, he took stock of his injuries.

The lesser wounds had indeed healed overnight; the scratches and minor cuts and bruising vanished as if they'd never been. His skin was still sensitive, but not so much that it was painful. The stab wound, while it _had_ healed somewhat, was still gaping and bloody, a mass of pain, and his sudden movement upon awakening seems to have torn newly-knitted flesh a little. 

Well. First things first; that wound had to be dealt with. 

Now that he was a bit more clear-headed with the lessening of pain the rest and partial healing had brought, he reached for the Restore Materia slotted into his bracer. He held it over his abdomen and called out its powers to heal him.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he tried again, only to meet with the same impossible failure. What was wrong? He knew he was doing it right; he'd been using Materia for longer than he could consciously remember! Once again an effort, once again nothing happened.

He glared down at the little green ball in his hand, froze. He studied it carefully, blue-green eyes widening in shock, then quickly checked the rest of his Materia stash, only to see the same thing repeated over and over.

They were all dead. The light of power that had once glowed in the glassy depths was gone. He might as well have had a collection of marbles.

He closed his eyes, took a moment to focus on calming his half-panicky breathing, the sudden racing of his heart. What was going on? Better still, what had happened?

He remembered falling after being thrown towards the reactor pool by Zack's young cadet friend after he'd found Mo- Jenova. He remembered his decision, remembered throwing the head away from him, remembered hitting the glowing green. Remembered the burning pain that came from everywhere, outside and in. Remembered that last hard jolt as he hit bottom hard enough to knock him out.

Somehow, he was no longer at the bottom of the reactor. Somehow, he was no longer even anywhere near Nibelheim. Somehow, his Materia had become useless. What had happened?

Wait. Had he actually died? Was this where people went after the life left them? He looked around again. It... wasn't how he'd imagined the Lifestream would be. He'd always just imagined it as a glowing green stream of energy ebbing and surging throughout the planet, had always thought he'd join with it as just another glowing green speck among millions. He'd never imagined... this.

But if he was dead and this was the afterlife, why was he still wounded? Would he bear the wound for the rest of his existence? He shook off the thought. No, the smaller wounds had healed, and the larger was working on it. But why would the dead have need of healing, or feel pain, or bleed, for that matter? It didn't make sense.

Well. There was no point in worrying over something that he couldn't change, especially not with so little information. Either he was dead and this was the Lifestream, in which case he'd have all eternity to get used to it because he doubted the Planet would allow him to be reborn. Or he was still alive, and had somehow inexplicably gone from the bottom of a reactor to wherever _here_ was and his Materia was useless. Wounded and bereft of Materia; all he needed was for a group of hostile children to happen across him and that would be the end of him. Was he completely defenseless?

The disturbing thought had him reaching out to the side with his left hand, then Calling. To his relief, the Masamune appeared as it always did. Well, at least _something_ was working as it should. He wasn't _totally_ defenseless. Good.

Even so, he wouldn't be moving very far until his wound had healed a bit more. He looked around again, then, decision made, he slowly got to his feet. Stood there a long moment, legs locked in an effort to keep from falling as the world around him took a slow spin, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle. Once he was relatively reassured that he could remain upright, he started off toward the edge of the nearby woods; he would not remain out in the open when so injured, not where anyone could stumble across him. With his luck, he'd probably ended up in Wutai. All he needed was for a stray Crescent Unit troop to come across him in his weakened state.

With that in mind he made his way into the woods, far enough that he would be more or less invisible from the road, but still close enough that he could keep an eye on it. He found a sheltered spot, then settled down to rest and heal.


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn't entirely wrong; what bandits lingered in the wood chose to haunt an area where the road ran closer to the edge, with less open space around it, and any regular villagers stayed well away. The day passed by restfully enough. The road was traveled only a little; once by a small group of women like the one from that morning, passing first one way, then returning, then by another group, this one of men bearing pitchforks and other farming implements. Those took the time to poke around the area, apparently looking for him, but stayed well away from the edge of the forest in which he lay concealed. After that there were no travelers and he could only guess that either it was only a lesser road, little traveled, or that people had another reason not to be out on it. Whichever it was, for the time being he was safe enough and the wood around him was quiet save for the rustle of leaves in the wind and the sound of the occasional bird. The day passed, warm and quiet, and it was easy to relax against the tree at his back and focus his energy on healing.

But the forest was by no means uninhabited and the scent of blood on the evening breeze drew its denizens toward his resting place from miles away.

Sephiroth didn't sleep that night. He wouldn't have anyway, not when he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there or... anything else, really. But even if he'd had answers to all those questions, he wouldn't have allowed himself sleep that night. Every basic survival instinct he had, every ingrained sense of _danger_ , kept sending bursts of adrenaline surging through his body at irregular intervals even as his hand twitched in want of his sword. The third time he unconsciously Called the Masamune to him, he decided not to send it back. Clearly it was just going to keep showing up and he saw no point in using up his reserves arguing with it. The fact that he was somewhat calmer and reassured with it in hand was entirely beside the point. By then, too, he had a feeling that the forest wasn't quite as empty as he'd first thought, nor as safe as he'd hoped.

He cursed himself for not realizing sooner that the scent of the blood that covered him would draw in predators like a corpse draws flies. He knew he could fight them off even in his wounded state, but doubtless the movement would tear the healing wound again, adding more fresh-blood scent to the air and drawing even more predators in turn. 

Not for the last time, he wished that his Materia hadn't inexplicably died. A nice Fire or Bolt could easily taken care of any wolf or bear - or would it be tigers there? - that dared approach without his even having to move. For that matter, a small campfire would have ensured that they never came that close in the first place. Ah, hindsight!

But he had no campfire, and his Materia _were_ dead. All he had was himself and the Masamune. At least his chosen resting place was defensible enough with the massive tree trunk at his back - he was amazed that it was allowed to get that big, even in what could be Wutai - and its equally-massive, gnarled collection of roots guarded his flanks. Granted, it meant that if there were too many foes he would be trapped, but he was _Sephiroth_ and had yet to meet a group of enemies that he couldn't handle. Even wounded and magicless, he was confident of his ability to defend himself from whatever lurked.

Still, as the night slowly crept on towards dawn, every new rustle as predators crept up to get a glimpse of him had him wishing that he'd had the foresight to gather material for a fire, that he had the means to light it instead of the useless bauble his Fire had become.

There was more moving out there than he would have thought, and something told him that a lot of it was a lot more dangerous than a few stray animals or bandits. After growing up in the labs under Hojo's 'care', he could always tell when he was being observed. The conflict in Wutai had trained his ability to know when those watching him wanted nothing more than to tear him apart.

Whatever was out there, lurking in the darkness just beyond the point his night-vision started to dim, was of the latter group and much more calculating than he was comfortable with, and _far_ more than any wild beast he'd ever encountered. He knew it couldn't be normal humans by the simple fact that the moon was the barest sliver in the sky, hidden behind a thick, leafy canopy. Under the trees, the night would be absolutely black to them. Then again, if this _was_ Wutai, they could always be ninjas. He'd learned well not to underestimate their abilities during the War.

But the creatures that stepped out of concealment, eyes gleaming, claws and fangs bared in anticipation, in the deepest dark just between moonset and dawn, were no ninjas he'd ever heard of, nor any beast he was familiar with. More like something from one of Hojo's labs, some looked almost human while the only resemblance for others was the fact that they stood upright.

He rose to his feet, not so slowly as to give them undue chance to attack, but not so quickly to tear his recently-closed wound back open. He could feel the itching inside that meant that his insides were still knitting together even if the outside skin and muscle had already done so. The bonds still fragile, he knew that while the newly-healed flesh could probably stand up to a bout of normal sparring, anything more than that and he was risking rupturing it once more.

Unfortunately for him, the creatures that charged at him then didn't seem inclined to take care.


	5. Chapter 5

Sephiroth knew that he was fast. He took pride in the fact that no one had ever outdone him in a test of speed since those SOLDIER-Firsts back when he was six. Genesis and Angeal might come close if they tried, but he remained confident in his ability to leave them in the dust should he put his mind to it. Certainly no normal human or animal stood a chance even on his worst day, nor did any of the Mako-spawned monsters he'd ever encountered.

Which made it all the more confounding and irritating when he found himself actively having to focus to stay out of the way of all those claws.

Granted, their number had something to do with it - there were more of them than he had first thought - as did the fact that the camp he'd seen as desirably defensible now left him with no option to retreat and was quickly turning into a trap. But though some of his assailants were no faster than a fleet-footed human or animal and thus beyond comparison to him, others were proving themselves to be faster by a disturbing amount. It was those he found himself having to watch out for.

The slower monsters were similar enough to those he was used to that he cut them down almost effortlessly with ruthless precision and if it had been only them it would all have been over quite quickly.

But it wasn't just them.

Those monsters with the almost-human looks were different. Faster than their lesser companions, they were also for the most part smarter. Put together, those characteristics saw to it that not only was it no longer an easy fight, it was also one he found himself having to work for. Enough of them were proving to be almost or just as fast as he was and their numbers gave them a marked advantage. He found himself being forced to give ground, slowly being pushed back as he had not been in years.

But there wasn't really anywhere he could go, the bulk of that once-reassuring tree behind him effectively blocking his escape even as it ensured that they could not surround him.

Sephiroth slashed again at the enemies on his left, more body parts falling to the ground as the Masamune sliced through them, the razor edge not even hesitating as it slid through flesh and bone. He grunted half in pain and half in annoyance as one foe took the opportunity to send sharp claws slicing through the thick leather of his coat to draw thin lines of blood down his momentarily-exposed right side. He pivoted, brought his blade across in a sweeping blow that added yet more parts to the already gory ground around him, only to recieve a similar blow from the other side.

He could still hear them all around, curses mixed with snarls and growls as they threw themselves at him. He was starting to doubt his first impressions of them. He'd thought that some were smarter, and granted their partially successful tag-team efforts proved that some were, but if they were as smart as he'd thought them to be, why hadn't they pulled back to regroup once it became obvious that he wasn't going to fall by their current approach? That for it to work, or to have a _chance_ of working, anyway, they would have to surround him completely and that as long as that tree was at his back that could not happen? If he was in their place, he'd have pulled back his forces and waited until his target had moved away from that protection.

Then a chorus of gutteral roars followed by an almost-eerie crackling and tearing sounded from behind him. Blade still a mere blur in its dance of death, he looked back over his shoulder just in time to see three of the larger monsters wrench the tree from the ground, roots and all, and hurl it away. Its bulk was lost to the night almost instantly, though the loud crackling and final boom marked its flight.

Before it even struck earth, those monsters that had been lurking about waiting for an opportunity to attack charged his newly-exposed back.

Sephiroth glared. If he'd had his Materia, it wouldn't have mattered. Then again, if he'd had his Materia, he'd have simply fried them all and not needed to fight at all. What he wouldn't give for a good Quake right about then...

But his Materia _was_ dead and he _was_ fighting, and he _was_ about to be surrounded.

He'd had enough; it was time to get serious. He could only hope that his own inherent abilities and those in his sword remained unchanged. A small shift of concentration and half-formed fears were laid to rest as he felt himself lift up off the ground, at first slowly to make sure it was stable, then a quick rise to hover in mid-air maybe twenty feet above the mass of cursing, growling monsters. A wide swing of the Masamune and another breathed sigh of relief as familiar arcs of blue power exploded outwards from it, slicing effortlessly into the crowd, felling dozens in a single sweep. Another blow, decimating their numbers, then a flicker of movement seen out of the corner of one eye had him zipping to the side with the realization that he was no longer the only one who had taken to the air.

The monster before him had blue skin, its face marked with blood-red stripes. It was clothed in clothes and armor that only reinforced Sephiroth's impression that he'd somehow ended up in Wutai; certainly no other country he knew of wore styles like that. Its eyes gleamed red, fangs glinting as it grinned, and were those _antennae?_ Then again, compared to some of the mutations he'd seen over the years, what was a few antennae?

"Nice sword," the blue-skinned one all but purred, "give it to me."

Sephiroth glared, blue-green eyes narrowed to mere slits in annoyance at the other man's tone. He sent another sweep of power down at the monsters below. Those left alive decided that they'd had enough for the time being and fled back into the woods. "This sword answers only to me. If you try to take it, I will cut you down."

A snarl escaped thin, dark-blue lips. Red eyes narrowed with rage, and one clawed hand raised the giant sickle he used for a weapon. "You dare threaten _me_ , the great Hanachimaru? Die!"

Sephiroth felt whatever respect he'd maintained for the other being flee in disgust at the other's head-on, infuriated charge. He waited for him to get close, then zipped to the side and cut him and his weapon in half with a single almost-bored swing.

_Well, that was a bit anticlimatic,_ Sephiroth thought. _How disappointing._

A look around the gore-littered clearing let him know that it would be best to get out of the area before any _more_ monsters decided to show up, drawn there by the scent of that much carnage. He would need to find somewhere else to stop to rest and see to his wounds; while he was pleased to note that his stab wound had held together throughout the fight, the light pull from his new claw-scrapes irritated him - more from the fact that they existed than from any mentionable amount of pain. Still, they would have to be cleaned, even if the scrapes themselves would be mostly healed by the time he found a source of water.

Or perhaps not. There _was_ the road, after all, and those few groups he'd watched that day hinted that there was a village not too far away. Even if this _was_ Wutai and he wasn't, as a general rule, very well-liked there, they would _have_ to respect him as Shinra's SOLDIER-General and give him the aid he requested.

Perhaps, if he was lucky, the village would have a temple where he could ask for help; by their own teachings, the priests would not turn him away simply because of who he was, were bound to offer what help they could. He'd always gotten along well enough with them, and it would save him the aggravation of trying to get the same aid from one of the villagers.

That decided, he flew over to the road then let himself float gently down to it and started walking.


	6. Chapter 6

When the village finally came into sight, spread out before him as he rounded a bend in the road, he had the sinking feeling that his plan, such as it was, was going to need some adjustment, if not a complete overhaul.

He'd known going into it that it would likely be a small village, but _this_ effectively redesigned his mental concept of 'a small Wutainese village'; while it covered a large enough area, most of it consisted of sprawling rice paddies and the houses were only loosely gathered into something that could vaguely be called a village. He could see people moving around it and their style of dress reinforced his belief that it must be a poor Wutainese town, but it lacked the colors he'd come to associate with that country. Back when he'd led the armies in Shinra's conquest of Wutai, he'd seen more than his fair share of traditional Wutainese buildings and all of them were quite colorful by his standards. This village had none of that; simple huts of what from that distance appeared to be rough wood planks and timbers, missing any trace of the deep, rich reds and blues that, for him, characterized that country.

Another thing that caught his attention was the complete lack of any kind of communications tower. For that matter, there were no power or phone lines that he could see. That didn't worry him as much; he knew that more than one village considered the lines an eyesore and so had buried them, leaving only the occasional access hub where new lines could be connected if there was need. He knew that there had to be lines somewhere; how else could they use their TVs, their phones, their computers? While the older generations may have scorned those devices, the younger most assuredly did _not_. Perhaps he would be able to get use of a phone for a few minutes so he could call in for a pick-up, if the owner of said phone would accept Shinra gil. He wouldn't be surprised if they didn't, even if new Shinra law required them to do so.

A barely noticeable shrug, then he started walking again. There was only one way to get answers to his questions.

By the time he arrived in what passed for the town proper, he'd come to the conclusion that not only had his original conclusions been way off, but his more recent ones would have to be re-thought as well; while he still couldn't help but think of them as Wutainese, things were quickly adding up against that assumption. What they were adding up _to..._ that was a good question.

Before he even entered the village itself, he could smell the distinctive smell of the clean woodsmoke that rose from every house. Not just a few hold-out traditionalists; _all_ of them. Another point of note was that he couldn't see any electronics, nor hear their distinctive hum. The children who were not working alongside the adults had no handheld games or music players. He could hear no TVs from inside the houses. Houses? From up close it was more like 'huts'; if any of them had more than a single room, he'd be amazed.

One thing that _didn't_ surprise him, however, was the villagers' reactions to his approach. Well, that wasn't entirely true. While he had more than half-expected the cries of _'Demon!'_ , the fact that they abandoned whatever they had been doing in favor of fleeing was new. When he'd been greeted by those cries before, they had usually been accompanied by angry, white-knuckled grips on their tools and glares that promised pain should he drop his guard. They had never run.

Until now.

What had changed? Had word of what had happened at Nibelheim, what he'd done while under Jenova's influence, preceded him? But how? He still couldn't detect any communications equipment.

Hopefully, he could get answers to his many questions at the temple. If there was one; he couldn't see any structure that, to him, screamed 'temple'. A shrine, then?

Oh, there.

A villager was running towards him, followed by a group of men in familiar robes; monks. The villager skidded to a halt as soon as he saw that he'd been spotted, then pointed in his direction before taking the opportunity to make a break for it.

Sephiroth barely held back the urge to roll his eyes. What was wrong with these people? Did they think he was going to _eat_ them? Had his reputation grown that badly out of shape in Wutai?

No matter. The monks were hurrying in his direction. He stopped walking and waited for them. Finally, he would get some solid answers.

Now he was getting somewhere.


	7. Chapter 7

His first indication that things weren't going to be quite that simple - of _course_ they weren't. What had he been _thinking?_ \- came when the moment the monks were close enough, he was greeted not by words but by handfuls of papers being flung in his direction along with a shouted _'Demon, begone!'._

Stunned by the act - what did they think was going to happen, that he would plead for mercy if he somehow ended up with a papercut? - he just stood there motionless for a moment, watching smug looks spread across their faces with a sense of consternation. They _really_ expected him to fall under a paper attack? What _were_ they thinking?

The smugly superior looks stayed on the monks' faces right up until the papers fell from him to gracefully float to the ground. Their eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in determination even as they brandished their staves in his direction.

Sephiroth reached over and grabbed one of the papers that had become stuck between two plates of his shoulder guards, studied it for a moment, then held it up to them. "Would someone care to explain this?" he asked calmly.

Instead of a direct answer, he had to pick it out of the surprised murmuring that passed between them.

_"...he touched it! How could.."_

_"...had no effect-!"_

_"...be a powerful demon..."_

_"...save us..."_

_"...so many sacred sutras..."_

_"...no ordinary demon. Daiyoukai?"_

_"...have to use..."_

"So am I to believe that you think I am a demon - a real, living demon from hell - and that these papers would somehow defeat me?" He flicked the paper in their direction, barely holding back an amused huff when they leapt back in surprise, hands tightening on their weapons.

"It can read minds?" one of the monks almost-shrieked, eyes wide.

"Those are sacred sutras!" another of the monks said in a self-important voice. "They will hold any demon and burn them with their sacred power!"

"Really?" Sephiroth made a show of looking himself over, then met the other man's eyes with his own narrowed gaze. "They don't seem to have done anything to me. If they work on all demons, what does that tell you?"

"That you must be a really powerful demon, a daiyoukai! But no matter; you will not escape our combined spiritual power!"

Sephiroth stared. "And the fact that I might not be a demon at all never occurred to you...?"

The man glared. "Foul demon! You won't fool us with your trickery! Your disguise is worthless! Look around you, demon. Does anyone look even a little bit like you, with your towering height, your long silver hair, and your glowing eyes? All the mark of a demon!"

Sephiroth was forced to acknowledge the fact that no, no one here looked anything like him. Then again _no one_ had ever looked anything like him. It still didn't mean anything. He was a demon because he was tall? Because he had a SOLDIER's Mako eyes? Ridiculous.

It was as he stood there, trying to come up with an argument that the hardheaded man would accept - a feat in itself - that their little altercation took the opportunity to escalate. He noticed movement out of the corner of one eye and turned just in time to see one of the other monks throw something to the ground at his feet. Whatever it was burst on impact, flooding the area with odd-colored smoke. 

What the-? A smoke bomb? Did they expect it to hinder him? He was Sephiroth! A little smoke was hardly a deterrent!

"Is this supposed to hinder me in some-"

Then he knew.

The smoke swirled around them, having spread to cover them and the nearby houses completely, and they had no choice but to breathe it in. But while the monks didn't seem to have much difficulty, the same could not be said for him.

The strange smoke burned as he breathed; his nose, his throat, his lungs all filled with a million tiny pinpricks. That was more irritating than anything else, but that was not the end of it. It was easily all the worst things he had ever smelled in his life combined, multiplied a hundredfold. He gagged, eyes watering, unable to suppress the momentary weakness that sent him to one knee, cursing the finely-enhanced, extremely sensitive senses that left him susceptible to the stupidest attacks. The great Sephiroth, Shinra's Silver General and the Demon of Wutai, felled by a stink-bomb? He would never live it down.

Even as he thought that, a warning tingling in his limbs told him that it was in no way an ordinary stink-bomb. Already, he had lost feeling in the very tips of his fingers and he could feel the numbness creeping inward, moving up from his fingers, his toes even as a heavy wave of lethargy passed through him.

He had to get out of there.

He got his legs under him, ready to jump straight up and fly away to a - hopefully - friendlier village, looked up just in time to meet a monk's descending staff with his face.

**oOo**

When the smoke cleared under the urging of a warm breeze a few minutes later, it was to find the group of monks gathered around the fallen body of the silver-haired man. Rope reinforced with their strongest sutras bound his wrists and ankles, and a smudge of the same substance the smoke was made from under his nose ensured that he would not be waking any time soon, even though the bruise from the blow that had knocked him unconscious was already all but gone.

"Definitely a demon," one of them said. "Only someone with a nose far better than human would be _that_ susceptible to the demon-slayers' smoke."

"I wonder what kind of demon he is," another said.

"He might be a dog," said the monk who had thrown down the smoke-bomb. "When he held off the sutras, I remembered that the hanyou Inuyasha has silver hair. He's part dog demon."

"That would explain the sensitive nose," said the one who had spoken with Sephiroth, the one who apparently led their group. He thought a moment, then his eyes widened. "Do you realize what we have done?" he said, a fanatically smug grin growing on his face.

"Captured a demon...?"

"Think about it! How many demons have you heard of that have silver hair?"

Murmurs rose as the others spoke together. "Ah... There's Inuyasha... uh..."

"I've heard of two," the leader said. "The hanyou Inuyasha is the most widely recognized. But there are rumors that there is another. A tall demon with long silver hair and a gaze that promises death to any who sees it. A filthy dog demon who calls himself the Lord of the Western Lands." He looked to their captive with a self-satisfied smirk. "We," he said, "have captured the daiyoukai Sesshoumaru."


	8. Chapter 8

It was a typical enough day in the Western Lands. The sun was shining, the air filled with the smell of warm greenery, a gentle breeze blowing just enough to take away the worst of the heat while not being strong enough to chill.

The two-headed dragon Ah-Un grazed contentedly on one side of a clearing in one of the Lands' many forests, one head lifting every now and then to cast a watchful look around. 

The human girl Rin moved through the clearing, skipping from one patch of wild flowers to the next apparently at random, her bouquet of picked flowers growing only slowly; she picked only the best, most perfect blossoms to present to her Lord upon his return. She sang as she worked; as always it was a song about how patiently she waited for his return. 

Jaken spent his time squawking at Rin to sit still, to be quiet, and 'stop picking all those silly flowers!' and staring off into the woods where Lord Sesshoumaru had disappeared, once again leaving them behind.

The imp watched and waited loyally - he _wasn't_ moping! - for his master's return, for any glimpse of white among the trees that would tell him that their waiting was at an end. What was taking him so long; shouldn't he have been back by now? Had something happened to him? Bah! What could possibly happen? He was the great Lord Sesshoumaru, the most powerful daiyoukai in the land - no, in the world! - and undefeatable! Except for that once when the filthy hanyou Inuyasha cut off his left arm. Oh, and when that vile Naraku almost absorbed him and he'd been rescued by his half-brother. How dare the half-breed breathe the same air as his Lord! His aid had _not_ been needed! Lord Sesshoumaru was just waiting until that filth Naraku let down his guard before destroying him and Inuyasha blundered in and messed up his Lord's perfect plan! Right? And even if his Lord had needed aid, it would be him, his most loyal retainer Jaken, who would provide it! Oh, Lord Sesshoumaru, where are you?

Jaken was so caught up in his mental drama that he failed to notice Ah-Un's huff of welcome and Rin's quiet greetings, only noticing that someone had entered the clearing from the direction they had arrived when he turned and almost ran beak-first into a pair of shin-guards.

"Jaken," came the voice from above.

Jaken jumped back with a surprised squawk, staff moving into position to torch whoever had crept up behind him, conveniently ignoring the fact that they had done no such thing. Then he recognized the demon before him as Mori, one of the higher-ranking of Sesshoumaru's personal guards. Not that their lord was incapable of defending himself in his own home, far from it, but tradition was tradition. As far as he knew, though, they never left the palace. Moved with the others in the seasonal migration between the summer and winter palaces, yes, but wander out into the wilds? Unheard of!

In his shock at the fact that the inuyoukai had left his post in the palace to find them, Jaken responded with his typical polite, cool, calm, and unshakable diplomacy. "What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded.

"Where is Lord Sesshoumaru?" came the question in reply, the demon scenting the air in search of his missing Lord.

"Don't answer a question with a question, you insolent dog! Now why are you here?"

The guardsman all but ignored him. "Where is Lord Sesshoumaru?" he asked again.

"He left a little while ago," Rin said simply, coming up to them. "He will come back soon."

The guard's relief was almost tangible. "I knew it couldn't be true," he said.

"Knew that what _what_ couldn't be true?" Jaken demanded.

In response, the guardsman reached into a pouch and pulled out a letter. It was written on fine enough paper by human standards, though it was nothing compared to true youkai craftsmanship, and addressed simply enough 'To the Demons of the Western Lands'. There was a faint bloody smudge on one corner and the seal was broken.

"This letter was delivered early this morning," the guardsman said, a trace of anger adding bite to his words. "It was attached to an arrow and shot into one of the palace doors, nicking the arm of one of the guards. My superior, the head of Lord Sesshoumaru's personal guard, opened the letter then sent me out here to find him."

"In My Lord's absence, I handle the affairs of his lands," Jaken said, snatching the letter from the other demon's clawed hand. He opened it then started to read, even as his mouth kept right on going. "He knows that I will take very good care of everything until he retur-WHAT?"

Buggy eyes wide, Jaken read the letter again, the Staff of Two Heads falling unnoticed to the grassy ground. "This is impossible!" he shrieked, flailing. "How could My Lord have been captured, and by mere humans! Oh, My Lord, how could this have happened? I'll bet it was the fault of that Inuyasha again! Oh, why couldn't your illustrious father have settled for your utter perfection instead of going out and siring that disgraceful mongrel? Now you've been captured by monks and it's up to me to save you!" He ignored the way Rin's eyes grew big at the news of Sesshoumaru's apparent capture, as well as the way she started theatrically screaming in dismay, hands at her cheeks. "Don't worry, Lord Sesshoumaru! I, your most loyal servant Jaken, will save y-urk!"

Even as Jaken faceplanted in the grass, a rock thudding down beside him, the others turned to see Lord Sesshoumaru walk out of the forest, as cool, calm, and immaculate as always.

"Rin, stop it," he said simply.

She stopped screaming instantly. "Yes, My Lord!" she said with a smile, then went back to picking flowers, reassured that her Lord was in no danger.

Sesshoumaru walked over to Jaken and Mori, then took the hastily-retrieved letter when the guardsman offered it.

Ignoring the way Jaken was now blubbering all over his boots, Sesshoumaru read the monks' letter. One snowy brow rose slightly in intrigue and curiosity as he read about his capture by them in one of his own border towns, miles away from their current position, and their ultimatum.

Ridiculous.

As if he would give the Western Lands, the lands that his family had ruled for generation upon generation, over to the governance of a pack of mud-crawling ningen. Neither would any demon worth the title give up that land to save their ruler. If it came to that, it would only prove that the current leader was too weak to rule, and another would then rise up to take his place.

No human would ever rule the Western Lands. Not while even a single demon remained alive to claim them.

It was odd, though; these monks seemed certain that they had managed to capture him, the great Lord Sesshoumaru. Obviously, they had not. So who-

Those who knew him best would notice the slight narrowing of golden eyes, the minute tightening of his lips that was all that revealed his irritation at the fact that he would _once again_ have to go and save his family's reputation from the uncouth blotch on the family tree that was his half-brother Inuyasha.

How _dare_ the miserable mongrel allow himself to be captured by humans!

**oOo**

Miles away, a certain hanyou sneezed.

Rubbing his nose in irritation, he looked up as Miroku walked up to him. Their group had stopped in a village to resupply and see if there were any rumors about any jewel shards in the area. He hated wasting perfect traveling weather, but aimless wandering hadn't done them much good so far....

"Inuyasha," the monk said simply. "I heard a rumor you might find interesting. It's about a temple in a nearby village and your brother Sesshoumaru."


	9. Chapter 9

The young monk quietly stepped around his colleague - currently focusing on maintaining the barrier up - and looked into the small cell around the door's heavy wooden bars in curiosity. Unlike most of the others, he wasn't an orphan that had been taken in and trained to be a monk since early childhood; he'd only recently discovered his spiritual powers and thus his vocation, and was actually still in training. Also unlike the others, he'd grown up in lands claimed by the Western Lord Sesshoumaru. 

He'd never actually seen the daiyoukai himself, but he'd been told of his deeds often enough growing up. How the demon protected them from other demons, how he had sent the village a share of rice and meat one season when the winter was especially tough and they had come close to starving. While he knew it had hardly been a charitable act - they could hardly send him their tribute if they were dead, after all - it was still enough for him to know that demons were not all the senseless, bloodthirsty killers that the others thought they were. If one merchant was to be believed, the daiyoukai could actually read and had sent servants to buy books and scrolls from him on various topics on more than one occasion!

He was somewhat disappointed to see that the demon they had captured almost a full two days before still lay where they had dropped him, not having moved so much as a limb after they had chained him to the floor with sutra-reinforced shackles. At least now the demon was dressed somewhat more decently in a plain white robe instead of what he _had_ been wearing. Even if it _hadn't_ been for his inhumanly beautiful looks, the young monk was almost certain that the fact that he was a demon would have been obvious from his dress alone. Certainly no self-respecting human would go around so indecently clad! Sinful!

The memory of that outfit had him glancing over to where the demon's belongings had been stored. Along with the leather clothing and odd footwear he'd had to be almost peeled out of, he'd also possessed a couple of small blades, a few demonic devices whose use they couldn't decipher, and an impressive collection of odd, round jewels. Some of them had been held in a pouch, but others had been embedded in those odd bracelets and blades and had had to be pried loose. The jewels had immediately been taken away for study when one of the monks sensed some kind of latent power lurking deep inside them. What _were_ those colorful baubles, and why did the demon see a need to carry so many? They were no valuable gem that _they_ could recognize....

Looking back toward their demonic guest, the young monk almost eeped in surprise when he saw newly-opened eyes of glowing blue-green staring straight at him. Frozen in shock, heart racing, it took him along moment to realize that no, he _wasn't_ being stared at. He was being stared _through._ The demon may have opened its eyes but it soon became apparent that it was in no way aware enough to be dangerous. Not yet, anyway. Hopefully, the demon-slayers' incense, given to them by the same slayer that had provided them with the smoke-bombs, would keep it that way as it burned in one corner of the small cell. Even so, he couldn't help but glance toward the many sutras stuck to the walls, window, and door of the cell, reassuring himself that they were still intact, still working to contain the demon.

While he knew that not all demons were murderous beasts, he knew that even the most gentle being could be roused to a fuming rage if they had been treated as this one had for no reason.

It was odd, though, that he couldn't sense a demonic aura emanating from the imprisoned being. Did the sutras on the shackles suppress it? Maybe it was the barrier? Or maybe the aura of a daiyoukai was different enough that he'd simply not yet been taught how to properly sense one?

The possibility that he might - as he had implied before they had captured him - not be a demon at all was cast aside with barely a thought. Those clothes, that hair, those glowing, slit-pupiled eyes; what else could he be?

Even so...

This time his eep of surprise _was_ audible as the prisoner pulled first one hand closer to himself, then the other, eyes narrowed in concentration. What was he doing? And _how_ was he doing it? Wasn't the incense supposed to render dog demons incapable of movement?

He had to tell someone. Obviously, the incense wasn't strong enough to immobilize a daiyoukai like Sesshoumaru. Something would have to be done if they were to keep him confined long enough to receive the Western Lands' response to the letter they had sent. Surely the shikigami had delivered it by now. How long would it take for a response to come back...?

Sesshoumaru moved again, hands braced on the floor as he began to push himself up.

He had to tell someone.

Without sparing the room another glance, he fled. The other monks would know what needed doing.

**oOo**

Waking up to find himself without the full use of his body and senses was something that he'd sadly enough become almost accustomed to under Hojo's guardianship.

Keeping his eyes closed to block out as much distraction as he could - and he knew that in that state it wouldn't take much - Sephiroth turned his attention to pushing away the mists that clouded his thoughts and mind. 

Despite his best efforts they didn't retreat very far which, while frustrating in and of itself, also left him with the knowledge that whatever drug was causing it this time was still being administered. A long moment spent scraping together the blunted and jumbled messages of his senses, the most notable of which were the heaviness in his limbs and an annoying half-tickle, half-burn from his nose down to his lungs. So it was in the air...

He opened his eyes. For a long while he couldn't focus enough to register anything he was seeing, staring blankly ahead. At long last, though, he managed to look around, seeing and dismissing the monk on the other side of the bars. What he could see of the room from his position was stark and bare, as was to be expected in a prison cell, except for the small stand in one corner where incense was burning, smoke rising up into the air in lazy tendrils. Considering their previous use of a smoke-bomb, he was willing to bet that that incense was the cause of his problems.

It was only when he managed to push himself up to his knees despite the unwillingness of his drugged body that he realized that not only was he drugged, he was also chained to the floor, more of those odd papers - sacred sutras, was it? - decorating the shackles at wrist and ankle, his typical leathers replaced by a long, flowing robe.

Honestly. Hadn't he already proven that those papers had no effect on him? Were they still so blind and determined to think him an actual, physical demon that they could see no other possibilities? Was this town actually backwards enough that they had never seen his picture splattered all over Shinra's recruiting posters and could actually not recognize a SOLDIER when they saw one? 

He hadn't thought that there was anywhere anymore that Shinra hadn't reached, but apparently he'd been mistaken.

And _why_ had they taken his clothes?

No matter.

First things first; he had to put out that incense and to do that, he had to get rid of the chains keeping him from reaching it.

It only took a moment's study even in his drugged state to realize that no, they really _didn't_ know what a SOLDIER was. The shackles and chains were made of solid iron. While it wouldn't take much effort to snap them if he could pull himself together enough to attempt it, for now he settled for exploiting their weak point. In this case, the fact that the floor they were anchored to was made of wood.

Four quick jerks accompanied by the sound of splintering wood and he was free to move around, dragging his chains behind him. Vaguely, he registered the fact that not only was the first monk he had seen gone, presumably to alert someone to his waking, but another previously unnoticed monk outside the cell was staring at him even as his hands were folded together in prayer and he chanted loudly.

Ignoring his little audience, Sephiroth managed to pull himself to the corner where the incense was burning, having to fight off a wave of heaviness as he came up to the source of the drug affecting him. It was a simple enough affair; a few sticks of incense standing upright in a little pot of sand. It was also simple enough to defeat, as he took out the sticks, lay them on the floor, then upended the dish of sand on them, effectively smothering them and keeping any more smoke from escaping. Almost immediately his senses started to clear, the natural healing of his enhanced body working together with the fresh air being carried in by the glassless window to purge the drug from his system. Now that he could focus, it was the work of seconds to rid himself of the chains and shackles.

_Much_ better.

Now, to get out of the cell, find his things, and get out.

He called the Masamune.

At almost the same moment in another part of the complex, the screaming started.


	10. Chapter 10

It took Sesshoumaru only a few hours to reach the little village; nowhere near long enough for his irritation at his half-brother's ignoble capture to cool. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't know who angered him more; the monks for even daring to attempt what they had, or Inuyasha for being unable to prevent it.

He did admit - to himself if to no one else - that his half-brother's capture surprised him. Though he had originally held the common belief that any hanyou could never hope to obtain even a tenth of the strength of a full demon, years of observation and conflict between them had forced him to revise that opinion. Granted, the loss of his own left arm could be put down to overconfidence on his part and sheer dumb luck on Inuyasha's, but the results of every fight since then were not so easily brushed aside. Even more notable, the hanyou had managed to emerge victorious time and time again against foes that _should_ have been able to grind him into the dust in mere moments.

How had the monks managed to drag him down, then? It could never have happened in an honorable battle, of that he was - however grudgingly - certain. 

Knowing his own weakness only too well - much as he would like to deny that he had any - Sesshoumaru had Rin stay with Jaken and Ah-Un and wait for his return out of sight of the village. Thus assured that they were as safe as he could make them short of sending them back to the palace, he made his way to the village.

As he neared it, he was reminded once again - as if he could ever forget! - of why he usually avoided entering human settlements. It wasn't just the way that that many ningen in one place made his nose itch; what self-respecting daiyoukai _wouldn't_ be thus affected when confronted with the scent of that much human? It wasn't even the way that any demon who entered would be charged more than double the normal cost of any item in what passed for a market. He avoided them also because of another, much less sensible reason.

He was Sesshoumaru, daiyoukai of the Western Lands. He was a being who had taken up his honorable father's rule upon his demise and powerful in his own right. It was also said that he had inherited his mother's beauty, and much as it annoyed him to be compared to a female - even one as powerful as his mother - he had to admit that there was more than a passing resemblance between them. He was, if not well-liked, then at least widely-respected, sought after by high-ranking females, and lusted over by those who knew they could never have him. He knew it beyond all doubt; an inuyoukai's nose never lied.

To walk into a village only to be greeted by hatred and fear was something he hadn't enjoyed since he'd left behind his adolescent years. What had once amused him as lesser beings showing their jealousy in the face of his perfection was now simply another source of irritation.

The fact that the villagers fled in terror when he approached also made it rather difficult to ask for directions to the temple he knew was nearby.

No matter. If they wouldn't come near enough to ask, he would just have to do it another way.

Bracing himself, Sesshoumaru breathed deep - manfully holding back a shudder of distaste as the scent of _human village_ invaded his senses - and delicately picked through the scents in search of anything that would provide clues as to what had happened there and where to go next.

Beneath the normal village smells, the strongest was one he identified as an incense popular in temples and shrines. The strength of it told him that there had been more than one bearing that same scent. The next strongest scent after that was one that made his nose sting and his eyes water, even after the time that had passed since it was new, and it was one that he recognized as being one of the many tricks demon-slayers used against demons with a sensitive sense of smell - like inuyoukai. Made to incapacitate them, it did its job with a ruthless efficiency that he couldn't help but admire even as he hated the implications.

He could not smell Inuyasha, nor the old-fire-and-lightning scent of Tetsusaiga's attacks. There was one scent he was almost certain he'd never encountered before - almost sweet, but with an unmistakable sour edge - but it could be that his nose was confused by the residual effects of the slayers' smoke.

No matter; he had found what he was looking for. The incense trail was still strong enough to follow and he set off once again, leaving the relieved village behind.

**oOo**

It wasn't the largest temple he'd ever seen, but neither was it the smallest. Away from the interfering scents from the village, it had been ridiculously easy to follow the scent-trail to the nearby temple; even Jaken could have managed in his own inimitable way.

Still, he couldn't detect Inuyasha's scent, and the odd sour-sweet one was clearer than ever. Had he, Sesshoumaru, actually been mistaken? Not that it would make any difference as far as the monks were concerned. They had dared to attack and capture one they believed to be Sesshoumaru, then compounded their affront by sending that ridiculous offer attempting to barter his life in exchange for control of the Western Lands.

He would teach them what became of those who dared challenge him.

A single blast of Toukijin's Dragon Strike was all it took to bring down the temple gates and a good portion of the surrounding wall, in the process also managing to destroy enough of the warding charms to bring down their anti-demonic barrier. Not that their weak barrier would have stopped the daiyoukai who had walked the slopes of the holy Mt. Hakurei.

A few of the temple's guards shot at him as he walked into the temple grounds following Toukijin's path of destruction, but they were mere pests and easily dealt with with a graceful flick of his hand and flash of his acid whip. Why would he dirty his blade with the blood of such miserable vermin?

Besides, using his own innate abilities was so much more satisfying.

By the time he reached the bottom of the temple steps, a group of monks had gathered at the top. Some were trying to raise a barrier but their lack of focus was obvious in the face of the blood and bodies littering the once-pristine courtyard, the agonized screams that filled the air.

"You! Demon!" one of the monks said. "What do you want?"

With satisfaction, Sesshoumaru matched the man's scent to one of those he'd followed from the village. How generous of the man to save him the effort of hunting him down. Now he could get some answers.

"You are one who sent the letter to the West?" he said.

"Are you their messenger? Have you come to-"

"This Sesshoumaru is no messenger," he said, irritation flaring anew. "You will release the hanyou immediately."

"Of course Sesshoumaru's not the messenger; he's locked up in a room in the temple, and the barrier keeping him there will stay in place until we get what we asked for."

"Foolish mortal! The filthy hanyou in your possession is not to be confused with this Sesshoumaru! You will release him immediately, and die."

"Don't you mean 'release him _or_ die'?" another of the monks asked timidly.

Cold golden eyes simply stared at them, slowly crushing all hope, before the answer graced pale lips. "No," he said. "All who dare challenge this Sesshoumaru will fall to him."

"So if that's the case, why are _you_ here?"

Showing uncharacteristic restraint, Sesshoumaru didn't immediately shred the monk. And these were supposed to be among the best-educated of human kind? No wonder he could see them as nothing but lesser beings. Now, if only he could figure out _why_ he was showing such restraint....

The answer was not long in coming, his nose assaulted almost simultaneously by the scent of Inuyasha, rapidly nearing the temple from the direction of the village, and the sudden scent of human blood from inside the temple, that sour-sweet smell coming closer.

Sesshoumaru all but ignored the monks before him in favor of watching his half-brother's arrival, though he did keep alert for any movement that might indicate that they had more of the slayers' smoke and were about to use it. He saw the hanyou slow as he came in sight of the blasted gates, then cautiously enter the courtyard, their father's fang at the ready and his pack at his back.

"So you got free already?" Inuyasha said once he saw Sesshoumaru standing at the bottom of the temple stairs. "Of all things, I would never have figured _you_ for the type to get kidnapped!"

"'Kidnapped'? Inuyasha, this Sesshoumaru is not a sleeping goat!"

"That's not- never mind. You know, we came all this way to rescue you; the least you could do is say 'thank you'."

"As you can see, this Sesshoumaru is in need of no such aid, half-breed, nor would he ever allow himself to be in such a position."

"Funny, that's not what I remember."

"A pity that our great and terrible father's blood could not prevent you from going senile at such a young age."

"Uh..." one of the monks said.

"Who are you calling senile? If I'm senile, then you must be just plain decrepit, 'cause you're _way_ older than me!"

"Hardly. This Sesshoumaru is pure-blooded youkai and thus in perfect health."

"Ah..." another monk said, frowning at the squabbling between the two demonic siblings.

"Ha!" Inuyasha scoffed. He sheathed his sword, then turned back to his group. "Let's go," he told them, already walking away. "I told you the bastard wouldn't appreciate our help."

"Inuyasha..." the indecently-dressed Miko said sympathetically.

"Keh! It's fine. Let's just go."

Inuyasha and his group left the temple grounds. Before following the others, the monk Miroku spoke.

"Lord Sesshoumaru," he said respectfully, "Inuyasha might talk tough, but he really was worried about you when we heard that you had been taken. He pushed us all hard just to get here in time to rescue you." A wry grin. "Once he stopped laughing, anyway. You two should really work on this whole sibling rivalry of yours."

Before Sesshoumaru could come up with a suitable reply - or have Toukijin reply _for_ him - the monk was gone.

Another monk. Why were they being inflicted on him that day? Ah, well. His brother's monk might be beyond his reach just then, but the same could not be said for the rest.

He cracked his knuckles then allowed the tiniest smirk as he called on his poison claws, his hand glowing a faint green even in the fading light of late afternoon.

"You have dared challenge this Sesshoumaru," he told the monks once again, his tone the firm and unchangeable one of a Lord passing down judgment. "Die!"

Sesshoumaru surged up the stairs, claws ready to tear, to shred, to poison and ultimately dissolve those who had angered him, but before he could reach them they seemed to almost fall apart in a spray of blood and gore as a sword unlike any he'd ever seen sliced through them with the ease of a knife through butter.

The pieces that had been monks fell to the wooden floor even as their blood started to creep down the stairs in a bright red cascade and Sesshoumaru found himself facing the source of that odd scent.

Long silver hair, down to the knee like his own, swayed with every gentle breeze. Dressed positively indecently in what seemed to be black leather, he stared at Sesshoumaru through glowing blue-green eyes.

He was like no ningen Sesshoumaru could recall, but the complete lack of a demonic aura told him that it must be so, though he was easily the _tallest_ ningen he'd ever seen.

All of which was beside the point.

At that moment, only one thing mattered to him, leaving him once again cracking his knuckles in preparation for tearing someone apart. "You stole my lawful prey."


	11. Chapter 11

Sephiroth was almost embarrassed by how easy it was to escape from the place he'd been imprisoned. He had thought that it might present a bit of a challenge since, after all, they _had_ managed to capture him in the first place, something that no one had ever managed to do no matter how many were sent against him. Well, except for Hojo, but that didn't count. No one without Shinra's authorization, perhaps he should say. Wutai had tried often enough during the war, knowing that without him able to lead, to stand against them, the war would suddenly be a lot more even. Perhaps even favor them, since they were on their home ground and knew the land inside and out.

But if _this_ was their idea of confinement, perhaps he had given them a bit too much credit.

Granted, the stink-bomb and incense _had_ worked against him with humiliating success but to think for one moment that paper sutras, wooden bars, and a bit of chanting would be enough to prevent his escape... sheer carelessness. Had these people forgotten _everything_ they had learned from going up against SOLDIERs?

Two passes with the Masamune was all it took to reduce the heavy wooden bars to just so much kindling.

The watching monk's eyes widened in shock even as he scrambled to his feet and backed away, stammering.

Sephiroth ignored him, stepped out of his former prison and into the room beyond. A quick glance around revealed a single exit and one more cell like the one he'd recently occupied, empty now. 

All of which was beside the point as he spotted a familiar bundle of leather and steel on a table in the far corner. Good; the draft he was getting up the robe was getting to be a bit disconcerting. And to think that he'd once thought traditional Wutainese clothing a prime example of modesty! He couldn't _wait_ to squirm back into his own pants!

Movement behind him, more sensed than anything else, had him bringing up the Masamune even as he spun, blade ringing against the surprisingly sharp edge of the headpiece of the monk's staff, meeting furious brown eyes with his own calm gaze over their crossed weapons.

"Demon!" the monk growled, glaring. "You won't get away!"

"I am _not_ a demon!" Sephiroth said, keeping the edge of his frustration from showing through with an effort. He disengaged, then with an almost lazy flick of the sword sent his opponent to the floor, clutching at the gash that had suddenly appeared on his leg, his screams rising to join those he could still hear further away. "I am SOLDIER. I have never had problems with Wutainese monks before; please don't make me have to kill you."

"...'Wutainese'...?"

He said it only partially out of respect for those monks he'd met during the war with Wutai, the only people he'd ever met who had simply taken his physical differences in stride; even his own SOLDIERs needed time to get used to him. But not them; they'd only offered him tea - and it hadn't been poisoned, either. They were actually the ones who taught him most of what he knew about their culture and beliefs.

That being said, his main reason for not slaughtering his assailant was a purely selfish one. If he killed them and word got out, he didn't doubt that the news would spread across the country like wildfire and spark a wave of outrage and political unrest. And if Wutai was uneasy, Shinra would have to send in troops to re-secure it, which would spark more anger and end up costing a lot of gil. 

If there was one thing that President Shinra hated, it was to see the numbers in the company accounts go down instead of up.

At one time, the President's displeasure over his actions would have meant little to nothing to Sephiroth; the man's threats rolling over him like just so much hot air. How could the man possibly censure him? He was the irreplaceable SOLDIER-General Sephiroth, after all; he could hardly be demoted!

Then Shinra discovered that there was a way. The next time he angered the President, he was relieved of his duties under guise of a 'vacation' and ordered into Hojo's custody in the labs for a week.

He had to admit that as far as deterrents went, President Shinra would be hard-pressed to find a better one.

So he left the monk alive behind him and turned back to his things. One familiar, rolling squirm later and he was encased in skin-tight black leather from waist to ankle, the robe he had been wearing folded neatly and put aside. Granted, the robe had been easier to move in than his preferred gear but for him it was still in no way practical.

He was searching for the wide, SOLDIER-issue belt when the priest moved again. This time when he turned, the Masamune went straight for the heart.

The monk's eyes widened in shock, a small trickle of blood escaping one side of his mouth. His hand, that had slipped into his robe with the sudden move that had alerted Sephiroth, thudded to the floor, hand opening to let a familiar ball roll harmlessly to the floor. One of those damned stink-bombs. Did they all have them, then? He would have to assume so.

Death was fast approaching but the monk only smiled, though his eyes glared with fanatical hatred. "You won't get away," he said again. "It is the end for you, demon!"

This time Sephiroth didn't bother trying to correct him. He just pulled his blade free then went back to his things and finished dressing. He saw almost immediately that his Materia was gone; his bracelets mangled to the point of uselessness by whoever had removed the orbs. What kind of fools _were_ these monks? Granted, Shinra had prohibited Wutai from posessing Materia since its defeat but it hadn't always been so. How could they not remember how to properly unset them?

Maybe he was reading too much into it. Perhaps the destruction of his bracelets had been intentional. Even _he_ couldn't easily replace them as he had spent a lot of gil to have them custom-made to his exact specifications. Did he even still _have_ those notes stashed away somewhere...?

He shook the thought aside; there would be time for that later, once he was well away.

He moved for the exit. The screaming that had started before had quieted somewhat, but not yet stopped. He supposed it would be as good a direction as any other; if he was lucky, it would be a Shinra troop come to retrieve him. Leaving aside the question of just _how_ they would have found him since he was on a different continent from where he _should_ have been - some Turk secret, most likely - he moved toward the noise.

**oOo**

Sephiroth could only stare.

He'd made his way through the temple, this time not bothering to give any monks he encountered the benefit of the doubt when they called him a demon. In most cases his preemptive strike had been justified as he found more of those stink-bombs on the bodies.

At last he'd reached an outside door and there was only one more group of monks standing between him and freedom. Their backs were to him, their attention elsewhere, but that only made it easier to cut them down.

Now, though.

Now he found himself standing there, monk blood slowly creeping towards his boots as he stared at the man standing just a few steps below, one thought echoing in his head.

_What_ in Shiva's name had Shinra's PR department been doing to his image?!

Over the years, he'd come to tolerate - but not accept - the fact that thanks to Shinra publicity and that damned fan club of his, his image was everywhere and that some people, hoping to shine by reflection, were willing to do everything they could to look like him. He'd seen the bad bleach jobs, the creepy reptilian contact lenses, the outfits straight out of an 'adult' store. He'd seen poor copies of himself on tall people, short people, fat people, and skinny people. He'd even seen it on women. Men he could sort of understand as idolizing and mimicing him, but _women?_ He wasn't _that_ androgymous, and his customary lack of a shirt should have made it obvious that yes, he _was_ male, thank you very much. Still they persisted.

He'd seen a million bad reflections, but he'd never seen anyone like _that. What_ had the PR department been up to? Had his image been superimposed on a snowy backdrop in a new poster and the white furry thing over the man's shoulder supposed to be their 'Sephiroth version' of a fur coat?

Hmph.

Well, at least the other man got the hair right; though the fringe was too short, he'd managed to bleach it in such a way that it actually looked natural. The clothes, though; he'd never worn anything like that. And what was the big idea with the markings on his face? It reminded him of what it would look like if the Turk Reno suddenly decided he wanted to be one of the clones! And while he got the shape of the pupils right, the color of the eyes was _way_ off. What was this guy _thinking?_

The sound of cracking knuckles brought his attention back to the situation at hand, and he met cold golden eyes with his own blue-green gaze.

"You stole my lawful prey," the other man said.

_'Prey'? Since when do I speak like that? When I get back to Midgar, I think a visit to PR is definitely in order!_

Then he had no more time to think as his oddly-dressed fanboy surged up the few remaining stairs with surprising speed and swiped at him with glowing green claws.


	12. Chapter 12

Sephiroth sidestepped the other man's swipe with SOLDIER speed then retaliated with a flick of the Masamune, only to find himself hitting nothing but air and having to dodge yet another swipe of those glowing claws. His instincts and nose both told him that he didn't want the source of that sickly glow on him. Then again, that was just common sense; most of the substances that Hojo so delighted in testing on him glowed, and none were very pleasant.

The claws, though. As they each moved, attacking and avoiding and attacking again, moving slowly back down the stairs as they did, he'd been close enough to those stubbornly-persisting swipes - didn't the guy see by now that he wasn't just going to stand still and let himself get hit? - to see that no, they _weren't_ some new kind of press-on; the ends of his fingers were padded differently, and the claws shaped unlike a normal human's nails.

Were even the more humanoid of Gaia's monsters trying to be like him now? Lovely.

This was ridiculous.

And getting annoying, he added as he dodged yet another swipe. Perhaps it was time for a little attempt at diplomacy.

"Why are you attacking me?" he asked as he swung, the Masamune's blade glinting in the sun, once again hitting nothing as the other man dodged with a speed he'd only ever seen in SOLDIERs.

His opponent's expression never changed. "You stole this Sesshoumaru's lawful prey from him."

"I thought you said they were yours."

"They were."

"So you're 'Sesshoumaru'?"

A sound almost like a growl came from the oddly-dressed man. "Filthy human! Know your place! I am Sesshoumaru, daiyoukai of the Western Lands."

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have a prior claim to them? They _did_ abduct me with no reason."

"That is of no consequence. They dared challenge this Sesshoumaru, therefore their lives belonged to him."

Sephiroth frowned. He wasn't exactly in agreement with that declaration, but he was willing to go along with it in order to avoid a dispute that might get back to Shinra. Which brought up another point. Calling up his mental map of Wutai, he searched for the other's so-called 'Western Lands'. Presumably it was in the western part of the country, but it wasn't any of the towns, nor any of the provinces or territories he was familiar with. And what was a 'daiyoukai'? The monks had called him that, when they weren't calling him demon. Shaking that thought off for later, he avoided a swipe, retaliated with equal lack of success, then asked: "These 'Western Lands'... where exactly are they in Wutai?"

They had made it to the bottom of the temple stairs to the courtyard which, though littered with parts and bodies, gave them more room to move and allowed them a greater variety of moves than the monotonous swipe-dodge they had been trapped in. Both moved apart to give themselves some breathing room and plan their next attacks.

"This Sesshoumaru knows of no Wutai." He raised his arm - his _only_ arm, Sephiroth noticed - to the side, then flicked his arm and wrist.

Sephiroth's eyes widened in surprise when what seemed to be a whip made entirely of light shot out of Sesshoumaru's fingers and snapped in his direction. _Where_ had _those_ come from, and _what_ were they?! His caution in springing back instead of simply ignoring it - light couldn't hurt him, could it? - was justified when he saw flesh and stone alike split apart like nothing at the slightest touch. What _was_ that? Some kind of new laser?!

Even as new questions piled on top of old, the man's reply left him guessing. Maybe that was the point; maybe he was trying to distract him. A good ploy, but not good enough. "This has to be Wutai," he countered. "The look of the people and clothing points to it. I don't want to fight you. I just want directions to the nearest town with a phone."

"This Sesshoumaru cares not what you want," came the haughty reply. "You stole his prey and so you will die."

"Not likely," Shinra's SOLDIER-General retorted. A thought; perhaps 'this Sesshoumaru' might be open to a deal...? Somehow he doubted that an offer of gil would impress him, but perhaps a show of force...? "If we fight and I win, will you give me directions to a phone I could use?"

"This Sesshoumaru will not lose to the likes of you," came the reply. "What is this 'phone' you speak of?"

"Funny," Sephiroth said drily. "Fine. Not to a phone, then. How about to the nearest Shinra outpost?"

"This Sesshoumaru knows of no Shinra."

This time Sephiroth's shock was enough that he was almost late in dodging the latest flash of that odd whip, and didn't bother launching his own speedy attack.

"No... Shinra?" he said at last in disbelief. What kind of fool did Sesshoumaru take him for? "Everyone knows Shinra!"

This time Sesshoumaru paused as well. "I am daiyoukai of the Western Lands," he reiterated. "My information networks are vast and stretch across all of Japan and onto the Continent, and there has never been any 'Shinra'."

Sephiroth shook his head. Putting aside the new place-names to stick on his mental map at a later date, he focused on that one term that kept popping up. The monks had used it on him, and now the man before him was using it on himself like it was something of great importance. "What is 'daiyoukai'?" he asked.

"Are you a fool? Daiyoukai are what you ningen call Demon Lords."

Bemused, Sephiroth stared. He couldn't be serious! "And you claim to be one?"

Golden eyes narrowed. "This Sesshoumaru _is_ daiyoukai, as his father before him and all of his line back to the beginning."

Sephiroth scoffed. "There is no such thing. You might look odd - though it might help if you stopped trying to look like the PR-poster version of me - but you are _not_ a demon!"

**oOo**

Sesshoumaru had to admit - to himself if to no one else - that the fact that the human was managing to stay not only alive but unharmed as the minutes of their fight flowed by impressed him. Granted, were he to draw Toukijin against him he was certain that the fight would be over in mere moments, but the fact that a mere ningen was physically capable of evading both his claws and whip was notable in and of itself.

He also posed an intriguing riddle.

To look at, his appearance was human enough, though there was something about the eyes that struck him as odd, though he'd never been close enough to get a good look. He was also unusually tall for a human, almost of a height with him, in fact. And yet while the physical shape screamed 'human' and his main scent agreed, that odd sour-sweet overlay and almost-demonic speed said that he was something else, though he was almost certain that that 'something else' was _not_ hanyou.

Curious.

Also strange were his chosen clothing - he could think of no group of either humans or demons who dressed so - his unusually-long sword, and his questions.

Such odd questions.

Though Sesshoumaru had no love for humans - Rin, as far as he was concerned, was no longer one of them - he also didn't lie. Bend the truth until it screamed if it suited him, but not lie. He had never heard of this 'Wutai', 'phone', or 'Shinra', and he made a mental note to query his network of informants about that lack.

The fact that the human even had to ask what a daiyoukai was had him revising his earlier impression of the man's intelligence downward, but it was the man's almost-mocking reply to his answer that had his eyes bleeding red and his blood boiling with anger inside him.

Bad enough that he'd been accused of being a poor imitation of a human. Bad enough that for all intents and purposes he'd been called a liar.

But for the man, this filthy ningen, to deny the very existence of both demons and daiyoukai in a single breath, for him to deny the existence of his heritage and spit on his great and terrible lineage-

He had almost enjoyed their sparring, but _no one_ insults him and his family so and lives to walk away.

It was time to end this farce and put the human down in the dirt where he belonged.

He drew Toukijin.


	13. Chapter 13

They hadn't been walking for very long - they were barely half-way back down the path to the village - when a sudden surge of demonic aura from back the way they had come stopped Inuyasha in his tracks.

The hair on the back of his neck standing on end in warning, he turned abruptly to look towards the temple they had just left just in time to see the familiar flare of crackling blue light followed by lightning from the clear sky - Sesshoumaru's Dragon Strike. Inuyasha winced at the sight, questions coming instantly to mind. _How_ had the monks managed to piss off his brother enough for him to bother using his Toukijin at all, let alone the Dragon Strike? He only used that attack when he was seriously angry, or the fight was serious... or if his opponent was Inuyasha.

Since it clearly wasn't the last option, it had to be one of the first two. But what could those monks have done? Most attempts to purify the daiyoukai would only irritate him, and nowhere near enough for that cold, unfeeling mask of his to crack.

Then he could only stare as arcs of blue light cut right through Sesshoumaru's attack, turning the lethal Dragon Strike into just so many harmless sparks and turning one of the temple outbuildings into so much rubble.

What the-?!

A few blasts of Toukijin's demonic energy was answered by yet more of those blue arcs, cutting through them like nothing. Now that he was watching, he could see two forms floating in the air above where the temple courtyard would be - one light, one dark - both soaring and zipping around to attack and defend with demonic speed. 

The pale one had to be Sesshoumaru, but who was the dark one? Those blue arcs were clearly a powerful demonic attack, but he hadn't sensed any demon other than his brother when he'd been there. Had he just shown up and used the monks' distraction to attack the pale lord? Such a cowardly attack would have pissed Sesshoumaru off enough to Dragon Strike.

Or maybe it was a human with a demonic blade? If it was he felt almost sorry for them; to break up Toukijin's attacks, that sword would have to be just as powerful, and the odds of a demonic sword that strong leaving a human bearer unpossessed were not good.

But he still couldn't forget that there had been _no_ unknown demonic aura as there would have been if that was the case; even Toukijin had one. So what did that leave?

Some strong spiritual attacks might look demonic from a distance, he supposed. Between Sesshoumaru's own daunting aura and Toukijin's, it was impossible to tell from that distance if those blue arcs were demonic or not.

Another Dragons Strike, another series of arcs that turned it into nothing more than static and light.

Was Sesshoumaru actually having a hard time? From what he could see, they were almost matched for speed. Would it actually come down to dumb luck? Could his brother actually be defeated?

No. Way.

If asked, Inuyasha would deny that his next move had anything to do with any lingering sense of family loyalty. He didn't do it for Sesshoumaru. He _didn't._ He did it for himself because, just as Sesshoumaru had claimed his right to chose the time of Inuyasha's death, Inuyasha had long since claimed his right to Sesshoumaru's.

No one was going to kill his brother but him!

Abandoning his friends in favor of greater speed, Inuyasha took off back up the trail toward the temple.

Kagome's surprised "Where are you going? Inuyasha!" was answered only by a gruff "Sesshoumaru's in trouble," from the quickly-disappearing hanyou.

**oOo**

Sephiroth wasn't quite sure what to think. He saw Sesshoumaru's eyes turn red, heard what could only be called a growl as the man reached for one of the swords at his side. The hair on the back of his neck rose in warning and every instinct he had was screaming _danger!_

Then Sesshoumaru vanished.

It was hard-earned instinct alone that saved him from being cut down with the first blow, that let him bring the Masamune up in time to block Sesshoumaru's descending swing. Blue-green eyes widened slightly in surprise; not only had the other man moved with a speed rivaling a Hasted First, his swing had been strong enough to send Sephiroth skidding back several feet.

Playtime was clearly over. It was time to get serious.

Was it something he'd said?

More sword-strikes, blocked more by instinct than anything else, pushing him back across the courtyard.

Enough!

Sephiroth blocked, then began launching his own attacks, sending a rain of lightning-fast blows at the other man, the masamune naught but a flashing silver blur.

Blocked.

Both men backed away as they realized almost simultaneously the futility of that course of attack. They circled each other for a long moment, making and discarding plans of attack. Clearly, their speed and reflexes were too evenly matched for any head-on attack to succeed.

Sephiroth missed his Materia. A good Fire would have come in useful. Or maybe Stop, so he could hold the so-called 'demon' still long enough to find out what had happened, why his eyes had changed and the fight escalated all of a sudden.

He lifted his sword into a guard position when Sesshoumaru suddenly held his sword out in front of him and had the sinking feeling that he was going to regret not having a good MBarrier or Wall.

Red eyes met blue-green and Sesshoumaru spoke two words. 

"Dragon Strike."

**oOo**

Sesshoumaru watched in satisfaction as Toukijin's attack blasted the courtyard to rubble. It was almost a shame to kill such an unusual human - he was still stunned that the man had been able to hold him off as long as he had, even almost match his speed - but the insult to his heritage had sealed the man's fate. Nothing could survive the full force of the Dragon Str--

Wide arcs of blue light scattered his own attack into so many sparks and laid waste to _Sesshoumaru's_ side of the courtyard, the daiyoukai having to move fast to avoid getting sliced in half.

What the-?!

The sparks fizzled out to show the human down on one knee, a little singed around the edges, eyes blazing, but still very much alive.

And fighting, more of those blue arcs speeding at the daiyoukai with every swing of that ridiculously long sword.

Sesshoumaru dodged again, red eyes narrowed in irritation, and sent another Dragon Strike hurtling on its way.

**oOo**

Arriving once more at the temple's destroyed gates, Inuyasha stared. Whatever he'd been half-expecting, _this_ wasn't it.

On one side of the conflict was Sesshoumaru. He was clearly enraged; his eyes red, his aura surging in an almost tangible haze around him, his markings no longer perfectly smooth but jagged like his own demonic markings. He zipped around the courtyard in a blur, launching attack after attack with little effect.

On the other side was... well, he _still_ couldn't figure that one out. He _looked_ human enough with his round ears and lack of obvious markings, but no human _he_ knew of could fly, nor were any anywhere _near_ that tall, and there was something about his eyes.... He had no demonic aura that Inuyasha could sense, nor did his ridiculously long sword, but he _was_ the one tossing out those blue arcs. His clothing - what there was of it - was like nothing He'd ever seen - he was not blushing. He _wasn't_. Oh, hell, he _was_ \- and combined with that long silver hair he couldn't quite catch the words before they escaped.

"Oi, Sesshoumaru! I know they say that everyone's got a perverted side, but don't you think you're taking it a _little_ bit too far?"

The glare Sesshoumaru sent him should have killed him on the spot. "Stay out of this, half-breed," he hissed.

"Keh! Whatever!" Inuyasha said, then settled in to watch. He'd let them wear each other out for now, but he was going to keep an eye on them and step in if he had to.

**oOo**

He had clearly underestimated just how stubborn his full-youkai brother could be, and clearly his indecently-dressed opponent also possessed that quality in abundance.

His companions arrived at the gates just as the sun was setting, lighting the sky with brilliant orange and pink. They set up camp outside the temple walls, which seemed to serve as an unofficial boundary for the two fighters as neither they nor their attacks went beyond it. _Into_ it, yes, but not past it. They gathered firewood, started a fire, then set about making the evening meal. They made enough for both themselves and the two fighters, figuring that as full night fell they would call it quits for the night and start again in the morning.

No such luck.

Both kept right on fighting, the night lit only softly by the thin crescent of the growing moon and the brief flashes as swords clashed and attacks launched.

They were still at it the next morning when the group rose from an unrestful night's sleep, though the rhythm of blows was slower now as they - finally - began to tire.

After breakfast, the group headed back up to the gates' remains to watch.

Both men had clearly been fighting for a long time, clothing littered with dozens of tiny slices, the occasional spot of blood from a minor cut or scrape the only obvious injuries. Both heads of knee-length silver hair were hopelessly tousled and tangled enough to draw a wince from both women; it would take hours to get all the knots out! Both men were still attacking. Slower, yes, but still trying to kill each other with minimal success.

Or were they?

Golden eyes narrowed as Inuyasha watched the fight.

A burst of demonic energy followed quickly by another Dragon Strike sped across the courtyard at the black-clad man. It was by all appearances a serious attack except for one thing. Sesshoumaru's eyes were no longer red, his markings back to their usual crisp, clean lines, and he seemed almost... amused.

The dog-eared boy wasn't sure just _how_ he came to that conclusion - Sesshoumaru's face was as blank as ever - but he was certain of it nonetheless. Sesshoumaru, one of - if not _the_ \- most-feared daiyoukai in all of Japan, was actually having fun.

A few lighting-fast flicks of the sword sent blue arcs out, cutting effortlessly through Toukijin's attacks and slamming into the heap of rubble that was all that was left of the temple, narrowly missing the daiyoukai as he dodged gracefully out of the way. It was by all appearances a real effort to cut the demon lord in half except for one thing. A tiny, barely visible grin and the light in blue-green eyes. He, too, was having fun.

Inuyasha had the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall. The only problem with that was that between the two of them, the fighters had reduced all the walls to heaps of rubble and there were none left standing.

**oOo**

At last, late in the morning - almost noon, really - the fighting slowed, then stopped. The sudden absence of noise had more than one head turning towards the temple, waiting to see which - if any - being would come out, since Inuyasha hadn't bothered to share his brain-breaking revelation with them.

A few interminable minutes later, the slightly-ragged form of Lord Sesshoumaru picked his way across the gate-rubble, followed by an equally-ragged figure in indecent black clothing made even more so thanks to various sword-slashes. A brief hesitation, then they made their way down to Inuyasha's camp even as Kagome and Sango had to deal with sudden nosebleeds.

Water was offered and accepted; imperiously by the daiyoukai, with a nod of thanks from... whoever he was. A similar offer of noodles was ignored by Sesshoumaru, accepted politely by the unknown man, and pounced on by Inuyasha.

Once that was done, Inuyasha decided that he'd been patient long enough; he had questions that wanted answers.

"So," he said to the stranger. "Who are you and how come you can keep up with Sesshoumaru?"

For a long moment, the stranger just stared, blank-faced. "You can talk," he said at last.

Inuyasha bristled, glaring. "Of course I can talk!"

"Ah. Most of the monsters I've met just growl if they make any noise at all, except for that one a few days ago...."

"Look. I got no idea what you're talking about, but you're in for a fight if you call me that again! I'm not a monster, I'm a half-demon!"

"Is there a difference?" Sesshoumaru said drily.

"You, stay out of this!"

"Half... demon?" the stranger repeated. He looked to the rest of the group. "And you... believe this?"

Miroku spoke up. "Yes, because he _is_ a half-demon. See the ears, the claws and fangs? His mother was a human and his father was a full demon, just like Lord Sesshoumaru over there."

"Daiyoukai," said demon corrected.

"Ah, yes. My apologies. Full demon _lords._ "

Doubt was still obvious in glowing blue-green eyes, but was clearly set aside for later. "As for your earlier question," he said, turning back to the half-demon, "I am Sephiroth, General of SOLDIER."

He said it as if it ought to mean something to them.

"So how come you can keep up with Sesshouamru?"

Sephiroth frowned. "I told you, I am head of SOLDIER."

"Is that supposed to mean something? Keh, forget it. Not like it matters. So why were you two fighting, anyway?"

Sephiroth looked to Sesshoumaru, who looked to Inuyasha. "That is none of your concern, half-breed," he said. Standing, he looked to Sephiroth even as one clawed hand ran through his hair, the knots seeming to vanish all on their own. "Though there was no clear winner, I will hold to my end of the bargain. I will find the location of this 'Wutai', 'phone', and 'Shinra'. Follow or not, as you choose."

"None of my-? Keh! I bet you don't even remember. That's it, isn't it? Ha!" Inuyasha called after Sesshoumaru's retreating back. "You don't remember! Who's senile now? Ha!"

"It was... interesting meeting you all," Sephiroth said, "thank you for the meal." Then he turned and followed the daiyoukai, the tangles in his own hair falling away under a careless swipe of one hand.

The two men had barely disappeared around a bend in the trail when Kagome spoke. "Did Sesshoumaru just say 'phone'?"


	14. Chapter 14

Rin moved around the field, singing about her great Lord Sesshoumaru as she gathered a small bouquet of only the most perfect flowers. Her lord deserved only the best!

Some time had passed since he had left them to go visit the monks that had sent that letter, but she wasn't worried. Not even when they saw the unnatural lightning that was the calling card of his fierce Dragon Strike attack did she doubt for one moment that her great and shining Lord Sesshoumaru would come back to them.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't exactly be said for Jaken. He let out a squawk of dismay at the first Dragon Strike, then his panicking got steadily worse with each new one, especially when they finally noticed those opposing blue flashes that turned the mighty Dragon Strike into nothing but pretty sparks. Eventually it got so bad that Rin had to have Ah-Un sit on him to keep Jaken from running off to try and 'save' their lord, leaving Rin alone with Ah-Un in the process.

Silly Jaken! Didn't he know that nothing could possibly defeat their Lord Sesshoumaru? And besides, he'd once promised her that he would always return, and she knew that he never lied.

Night fell.

The shattered Dragon Strike was even prettier now that it was easier to see, even if the brightest flashes _did_ leave her seeing spots for a little while. She fell asleep watching them.

When she woke up they were still there, if harder to see against the glare of the rising sun.

The flowers she had gathered for her Lord Sesshoumaru the day before had wilted overnight so she fed them to Ah-Un (they ate them all except for the little blue ones) and skipped out into the quickly-drying dewy grasses to gather fresh ones.

Jaken, freed when Ah-Un got up to graze, sat by himself and worried. He did it so well that Rin could almost see the cloud of depression that surrounded him.

More time passed, and then the booming crackle of the Dragon Strike stopped.

Rin smiled and made sure that her bouquet of wildflowers was still perfect then went back to scratching the itchy spots Ah-Un couldn't reach themselves. Jaken stared in the direction the Strikes had been in then, when no more came, began wailing over the indignity of their lord's ignoble demise.

Silly Jaken.

**oOo**

Rin was the first to see him, his silver hair shining almost pure white in the sun. Abandoning Ah-Un's itches, she ran up to him, smiling, then bowed as she had been taught and presented the flowers. "Lord Sesshoumaru! You're back, my lord!" she greeted warmly. "Jaken was so worried, and most distressed!"

The imp in question wiped his flooding eyes on his sleeve then spoke. "I was not!" he refuted. "I always knew you wouldn't allow a group of mere human monks defeat you, Lord Sesshoumaru! It was that girl Rin!"

Around then, Rin noticed that her beloved lord hadn't come back alone. She leaned over to look around one white-clad leg, only to have his mokomoko-sama move to block her view, then herd her to where she couldn't see. She looked up at her lord in curiosity; he had never brought anyone back with him before! "Who is that, my lord?" she asked. "Is it a demon?"

Alerted to the new arrival by her query, Jaken looked. His beak dropped open in shock at the sight. How dare such a person follow his lord! From his clothing - what there was of it - it was clear just what kind of person he was.

"That is no demon, Rin," he squawked. He took aim with his staff. "Please, milord, allow _me_ to dispose of this mortal harlot that dares inflict himself on your illustrious presence!"

"Jaken."

"Don't worry, milord! I, your most loyal and dependable servant Jaken, will take care of this so you don't have to get your own impeccable hands dirty!"

"Lord Sesshoumaru, what does 'harlot' mean?"

"Jaken!"

"Yes, milord?"

"Fetch fresh clothing for this Sesshoumaru and his guest."

"For this...? Are you certain, milord? What am I saying, of course you're sure, you're Lord Sesshoumaru! However, if this most humble Jaken might point out that even for one of your illustrious lineage, associating with a mere human such as this one might not be--"

"Jaken!"

"Yes, milord! Right away, milord!"

"Lord Sesshoumaru?" Rin asked again.

"Rin. You are to forget that you ever heard that word."

"Yes, my lord!" she said cheerfully. "Jaken sure does talk funny, doesn't he?"

**oOo**

It was only after the two men had dressed in some of Sesshoumaru's spare clothing - retrieved from Ah-Un's saddlebags by a despondent Jaken - that Rin got her first good look at the man her lord had called 'guest'.

"You look almost like Lord Sesshoumaru!" she exclaimed.

It was true. Now that he was decently dressed - and in the daiyoukai's own clothes and colors no less - the similarities between them were all the more obvious. Their hair was almost exactly the same length and the same shade of silver that seemed white in the sun. Their builds were almost identical and the stranger - only recently introduced as 'Sephiroth' - could not be more than an inch taller than her lord. Then again, it might just be his hair that made him seem so. Even their basic facial structure was similar enough to fool any who didn't know them very well if it wasn't for Sephiroth's lack of facial markings.

"Don't be foolish, Rin!" Jaken argued. "They look nothing alike! Lord Sesshoumaru is a great and terrible daiyoukai, and this Sephiroth" - he sniffed in disdain - "is nothing but a--"

"Jaken."

"Yes, milord?"

"Sephiroth is a guest of this Sesshoumaru. Do not dishonor him by insulting his guest."

"Yes, milord! I mean no, milord! I mean-"

"Jaken."

"Shutting up, milord!"

**oOo**

Sephiroth studied the land around them as they walked, adding on to his slowly-growing mental map of the area and tried not to chafe at the slow pace.

He didn't see why they didn't use a transport to move faster. Surely a lord like Sesshoumaru claimed to be could afford it! Granted, so far he hadn't seen any sign that _anyone_ had anything larger than a push-cart, but that just couldn't be right.

So why all the walking?

He could admit to himself that at least part of his unvoiced complaint was entirely the fault of his new footwear. Since his own thigh-high boots would have gone as well with the billowing white pants as a Crescent Unit troop at the President's birthday party, he'd been persuaded to put them aside in favor of a spare pair of Sesshoumaru's. He supposed they fit well enough, though the way they could be adjusted at every point was completely new to him, but he just couldn't seem to get used to them. Though he might be a bit hasty on that judgment, since he'd worn them only a few hours so far compared to the years he'd worn his own boots.

Speaking of clothing, _that_ was also going to take some getting used to. Not only was it a brilliant white with patches of blue patterns, but its billowy looseness allowed him a range of mobility he had never even realized he was lacking. He looked forward to trying a few basic drills when they stopped to see how that new freedom might affect his bladework. He could only hope that his new clothing would stay _on_ when he did.

Not being Wutainese, he had no real knowledge of how to wear any of the clothing that he had been given. He had only managed this time thanks to covert peeks at Sesshoumaru as the daiyoukai dressed and half-remembered memories of the one time he'd been obliged to dress in formal Wutainese warlord gear to finalize the terms of Wutai's surrender to Shinra in a meeting with Lord Godo. Luckily, none of it had worked loose or fallen off so far, but he knew it was as much by dumb luck as by design.

And still they walked.

Ah, well. By the time they got wherever it was that they were slowly ambling towards, he should have a pretty good idea of the people - creatures? - and situation he now found himself stuck with.

There was the two-headed lizard... thing called Ah-Un. Some sort of 'demon', he supposed, since it was clearly not human. He hadn't yet heard it speak and most of the time it wore some kind of decorated muzzle so for now he would equate it as the lizard version of a Chocobo.

Jaken was a short green... something, dressed in brown robes and carrying a staff with a pair of heads on it that was apparently some kind of weapon if the way he'd been threatened with it upon his arrival had been any indication. What it did, he didn't know, but he would keep an eye out. The little being seemed to be some sort of servant to Sesshoumaru, though his enthusiasm seemed to outweigh his intelligence at times. Another so-called 'demon'? Possibly.

Then there was Rin. She seemed to be a normal enough human girl, but considering the company she kept, he had to admit it wasn't likely. She didn't seem to do much, her main task seeming to be gathering flowers for Sesshoumaru and scratching the lizard. 'Demon'? Sigh. Probably.

And still they walked.

**oOo**

When Sesshoumaru returned to the camp that night after one of his periodic perimeter checks, he didn't know whether to be amused or offended. After some thought he settled on impressed, and perhaps a little curious as to how exactly Rin had managed to not only get near the sleeping Sephiroth without waking him - even he would hesitate to try sneak up on such a capably-trained warrior - but also accomplish her task and get away unscathed.

He should have known something was up when she saved some of the berries she had found 'for later' instead of gobbling them up like she usually did, should have put two and two together when the shades of the berries was so familiar.

But he hadn't, Rin had struck, and Sephiroth had paid the price.

He had to admit, though, that her hand was remarkably steady for such a young child, and her memory impeccable.

There, stained with berry juice on the pale skin of Sephiroth's face and wrists, were an exact replica of his own demonic markings. In an effort to make the illusion even more complete, Rin had even dug the snowy white pelt he'd acquired for her after she expressed a desire for her own mokomoko out of the saddlebags and draped it over Sephiroth's right shoulder. The only thing missing was the armor.

The resemblance between them now was uncanny, the only discrepancies being in the color of their eyes and Sephiroth's lack of claws, pointed ears, and demonic aura. Combine that superficial resemblance with their almost evenly-matched skill in battle.... It wouldn't fool anyone who got too close, or anyone who dealt with him regularly, but for any others....

Sesshoumaru moved over to the tree he'd chosen to bed down against, his agile mind full of _very_ intriguing possibilities before he shrugged them away in favor of more practical thoughts. They would be arriving at the palace the next day and as promised he would query his information networks for Sephiroth, but what was he going to do with the man while they waited for the information to come back? Somehow he doubted that the other man would be content to laze about and wait like so many others would, and since as host it was his duty to see to the welfare of his guests, that left him with the question of just what to do with him.

Again, he pushed the thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling on it until the time arrived, and by then he would have a better idea of who and what this Sephiroth was.


	15. Chapter 15

They hadn't even arrived at their destination yet and already Sephiroth knew that he would have to rethink some of his previously held conclusions. Specifically, that 'demon' was only a blanket term used by superstitious Wutainese to classify anything that they saw as strange or inhuman.

It was rather hard to hold on to the whole 'demons are just strange humans' idea when confronted with an entire village of people whose only resemblance to humans was their basic body structure.

From a distance, it looked like any of the other villages they had passed by that day, but unlike those, _this_ one thrived within sight of a fortified mansion large enough to rival that of Lord Godo.

He had been happy enough when they had bypassed the other villages.

Sometime during the night, he seemed to have acquired not only a fluffy fur pelt but a series of markings on his face and wrists mirroring Sesshoumaru's. Judging by Jaken's outraged squawking when he saw them, clearly _he_ wasn't the one responsible. He was almost certain it had been Rin to 'decorate' him, but that conclusion was based more on a hunch than any actual proof; not that his hunches were anything to scoff about. He could only wonder how she had actually managed to do so without waking him, or causing him to lash out - usually fatally - in his sleep. No one had managed to sneak up on him like that since he was a small child; he had Hojo to thank for that, not that he ever would. That morning, she had complimented him on his 'improved' looks, but that didn't stop him from washing them off at the first available opportunity.

Or trying to, anyway.

To his dismay, the dye stubbornly refused to vanish and though the marks were mere shadows of their former vibrancy, they were still quite easily visible.

Great. Now it looked like _he_ was the one trying to look like _Sesshoumaru_ instead of the other way around. He could only imagine the consequences should a picture of this get back to Shinra and they decided that he had gone AWOL just to take a trip to Wutai to imitate the pale lord. How much lab-time would the President curse him with _then...?_

But that was beside the point, that being that they had bypassed all the other villages so he had rather expected them to pass this one as well, but instead of veering off again, Sesshoumaru stuck to the road and led them right down into it.

And that was the point when his safe little preconceived notions screeched to a rusty halt and shattered.

On one side of the village's main street - which seemed to double as a market - a woman was selling fabric. Even to his untrained eye the quality of the cloth was superb, but that wasn't what caught and held his attention. Dressed in a beautiful pale-pink kimono decorated with a delicate flower pattern, the woman had the head, paws, and tail of a fox. Make that _tails_ , as there seemed to be two of them bouncing along behind her. In front of her, examining a bolt of fabric, was another well-dressed woman with a head of brightly-colored feathers, wings, and three-toed bird feet.

All around them, people went about their daily business just like any other village, with the sole exception being that everyone had either some obvious animal parts or markings and an almost human shape like Sesshoumaru.

His first thought - that they were just smarter than average Mako monsters - was proven wrong by the simple fact that even when they were surrounded by them, he could not detect even a hint of the distinctive sour smell of Mako.

None.

So demons _were_ real?

Sesshoumaru had been telling the truth?

Demons were real? Why had he never been informed of that? It was his job to know things like that! And if these Wutainese demons were all as fast and strong as Sesshoumaru, why had his own SOLDIERs never encountered them?

Then again, considering the reaction of the human villagers and monks toward anyone they thought might be a demon, perhaps it shouldn't surprise him that any real demons would let them fight and fall alone.

They kept walking and soon the fox-headed woman was lost from sight behind them thanks to the bustling crowd. Crowd. The market was full of... people... and yet they were still moving along at that same steady pace and he hadn't been jostled even once. How-?

His question was answered when he caught sight of Sesshouamru again, wrenching his attention back to his companions and away from the market's novel population.

No one jostled Sesshoumaru, either. Instead the crowd parted for him, getting out of his way in much the same way that they moved away from the Presiden't vehicle, only without SOLDIERs having to be there to enforce that distance. _This_ crowd respected Sesshoumaru's personal space - and that of the rest of his party - all on their own, and while the iron tang of fear or anger rose from a few, most seemed to feel nothing but a great respect and almost awe.

Was that what it meant to be daiyoukai? Or was it because he was _Sesshoumaru?_ For that matter, it was actually quite similar to the reaction _he_ got whenever he went somewhere, only without the creepy imitators.

Was Sesshoumaru, possibly, Wutai's answer to Sephiroth?

Now _that_ was something to think about.

**oOo**

It wasn't long before they left the bustling town behind them, the quiet of the open road closing around them again, disturbed only by Rin's cheerful singing and Jaken's occasional squawks.

Sephiroth wasn't sure what to think of that. Since they had actually gone through the village instead of around it - and since the people there obviously knew who Sesshoumaru _was_ \- he had more than half-expected them to stop at one of the houses there; some of them looked big enough to belong to a backwater Wutainese demon lord.

But they didn't, didn't even pause, and he was left wondering just _why_ they had gone there at all. Had it been Sesshoumaru's way of proving that demons _did_ , in fact, exist? To simply show him almost-irrefutable proof instead of verbally arguing the point? He could understand that; neither of them seemed to be fond of saying two words when one would do, and if they didn't have to speak at all, so much the better. He had pulled similar things on his subordinates on more than one occasion himself and knew that the point tended to sink in better when one discovered it for oneself than if someone else simply told them.

Yet another way that they were similar, but Sesshoumaru had taken silence and near-invisible cues to a whole new level. Even he, who had trained himself to notice such things, only started seeing those cues when he noticed Rin answering them. Sephiroth couldn't help but be impressed; the daiyoukai made the Turks' covert hand-signals seem as obvious as the archaic semaphore.

The road turned and started to climb.

Shinra's SOLDIER-General added the detail to his ever-growing mental map and once again tried to superimpose it over his image of Wutai but no matter how he turned it, it just wouldn't line up anywhere. He thought briefly that he might be one one of Wutai's collection of smaller islands, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Those islands were small enough that he should be able to see ocean in at least two or three directions at any given time and that was just not the case. He could smell seawater in the air, getting stronger as they walked, and hear the cry of seabirds, but looking back the way they had come all he could see behind and to the sides was field and forest.

When they got to wherever they were going - he could only assume it would be Sesshoumaru's home - he would have to see if the other man had a map he could look at. He was sure that once he could check an accurate map he could figure out how to get back to the main continent and from there....

...from there, what? He had already decided, even before Jenova sank her tentacles into him, that he would not be going back to Shinra. And yet, they were the ones who had the records that he wanted, the ones that would tell him who he was, who his real parents were.

He supposed that Genesis was always an option, though he didn't know that he could keep the anger of betrayal back if the redhead insisted on taunting him as he seemed to enjoy.

After careful consideration, Sephiroth decided against it. It might be easier to get the answers he wanted if he joined him, but they would not be worth the level of conflict and aggravation the redhead seemed to thrive on.

What, then? He supposed that he could always hit one of the smaller outposts. He doubted that his security clearance had been revoked yet - especially if they thought he was dead - so getting in should be easy enough, and once he had access to one of the networked computers, well. It would be time to see if those hacking tricks he'd learned from one of the Turks were as good as he'd claimed they were.

But that was for later. Now was now.

The ground leveled off again and Sephiroth shook off his musings to look around. One snowy brow rose slightly as he found that they had come within range of the fortified mansion walls he'd noted before. Surely this wasn't... it couldn't be....

Sesshoumaru didn't even hesitate as he walked toward the large gates. Decorated with elaborate carvings of dogs, they swung open at his approach. The guards at either side snapped smartly to attention.

"Welcome back, Lord Sesshoumaru," one greeted.

With a tiny nod of acknowledgement, Sesshoumaru led his group through the gates and into the clean-swept courtyard beyond. Almost immediately, Rin took off across the smooth flags towards the mansion and Ah-Un wandered away, presumably heading for the stables.

Sesshoumaru walked across the wide open space and up the mansion stairs. At the top, he paused in front of the now-open doors, the guards there at attention like those at the gates had been. He turned to look at Sephiroth, who had followed him there. "As the lord of these lands, this Sesshoumaru welcomes you, Sephiroth, to the Western Lands' summer palace."


	16. Chapter 16

_Now_ he was getting somewhere!

When they had arrived at the palace the evening before, Sephiroth had followed a woman Sesshoumaru had called to the room that was apparently to be his for the duration of his stay. It was nice enough in that bare, clean-lined traditional Wutainese way, the bed a simple futon on good-smelling tatami floor; near enough to what he had expected given everything he had seen so far. Not being a man who enjoyed clutter in his living spaces, it was very much to his taste. It was also a single room.

He got a blank look when he asked the woman where he could shower, but when he changed it to a request for a bath she brightened and led him down the hall then out a door and into a mid-sized courtyard. It was surrounded by walls with covered porches running the entire way around, the middle left open to the sky, and in it was carefully-cultivated greenery surrounding what could only be a natural hot spring. The woman showed him where the bath supplies were then left him alone with a promise to return with towels and a sleeping yukata.

As soon as she was gone, he wasted no time in stripping then slipping into the soothing warmth, noting with satisfaction that the wound from his impalement on the Buster Sword had healed without even a mark. If he had missed anything about his time in Wutai - besides the complete lack of Hojo - _this_ was it.

After a good long soak - it was full dark by the time he pulled himself from the water and servants had already been around lighting various lamps - he dried himself off, dressed in the robe he'd been left, then went back inside. Thanks to his habit of mapping out everywhere he went, he didn't have much trouble finding his room again.

With the decision to find Sesshoumaru and ask for a look at a map in the morning, Sephiroth put out the lamps that had been lit in his own room and slipped into bed.

**oOo**

It was not yet dawn when he awoke; his usual hour.

Sometime in the night, someone had put a small pile of clothing just inside the door and though he was a bit disturbed that they had been able to do that without waking him - between them and Rin, he was starting to wonder if he was losing his edge - he was glad to be able to change into real clothing instead of having to go around in sleepwear.

The clothes themselves were just as awkward to get into as last time and he was forced to do it from memory. It took maybe twice or three times as long to get dressed as the last time, but he was reasonably confident that not only had he gotten it right but that it also wouldn't loosen and fall off.

Hopefully, anyway.

He was lucky that the style was the same as those he had borrowed from Sesshoumaru. He wasn't sure just _what_ he would have done if they had been different.

Once he was dressed to his satisfaction, he waited in his room, checking over his weaponry until he heard the sound of people moving around quietly in the hallway on the other side of the thin paper wall. It didn't take long; his weaponry at that point was reduced to a pair of small knives, the Masamune, and a pouch full of dead Materia he'd found in the temple rubble near the bodies of the last monks he'd slain, retrieved at some point during his night-long battle with Sesshoumaru. He didn't know why he had bothered to pick them up, other than the faint hope that he might somehow be able to fix them, or at least find out why their power had vanished.

Stowing them away again, he left the room then followed a helpful servant down the long hallways to the dining hall where he could presumably get breakfast.

Luck was with him; he arrived shortly after Sesshoumaru, which certainly made tracking down the daiyoukai a lot easier, and it was as they ate that he made his request to see a map. His request granted, once they were both done eating he followed Sesshoumaru to a large room the other man called his 'study', what Sephiroth would have called an 'office'. There was one bigger table sitting facing the doorway, centered against the far wall. Full shelves lined three of the walls and there was a smaller table off to one side, both table in the traditional style with cushions for sitting.

Sephiroth took the roll of paper Sesshoumaru pulled from one of the shelves with a quiet thank you, then moved to the smaller table and unrolled it even as the daiyoukai took his place behind the larger table and began his own work.

Whatever optimism he'd felt at finally being able to know _exactly_ where in Wutai he'd ended up shriveled up as soon as he really took in what he was seeing and compared it to long-sinced memorized maps of the world.

_What the-?_

"Sesshoumaru," he said, looking over to the daiyoukai, who paused in his own work to look up, gold eyes meeting blue-green.

"Yes?"

"Just how accurate _is_ this map?"

Sesshoumaru stood with a soft hiss of silk, went over and looked at the map. "Very," he said after a long moment of study. "Here we are" - one claw pinpointed a spot on the map, then lightly followed the thin line of a road to another spot - "and this is the temple where we met."

Unfortunately, the map and Sesshoumaru's words were matching up perfectly with the mental map he'd formed as they walked. He drew his finger down the coastline nearest the landmass labeled simply _The Continent_. "And the coast?"

"Is accurate."

"That isn't possible."

"Explain."

"The Wutainese coastline isn't shaped like that, and the continental coastline is all wrong. And why are these mountains here?" One finger pointed out said mountains, then dragged down the page to a spot roughly in the middle of the country. "They should be over here. For that matter, the entire island is entirely the wrong shape. Wutai isn't shaped like this, it's..." he looked around. Spotting blank paper on Sesshoumaru's table, he pointed to it. "May I?"

A simple nod in reply, the barest hint of a frown on that impassive face.

Sephiroth went over, dipped the brush in ink and began to draw, long experience speaking plainly in the ease with which he made the country appear. "Wutai is shaped like this. See how the coast curves? Then the mountains and Da-Chao. The capital and Lord Godo's estate. The continent closest to Wutai had a soastline like _this_ , and here's the port we usually use to get there." Taking his map, Sephiroth brought it over to compare to Sesshoumaru's. "See? They look nothing alike! Were I you, I would have words with the cartographer responsible."

"True, they bear no resemblance. However, this Sesshoumaru is unfamiliar with the landmarks you named. He knows of no 'Da-Chao', nor any lord - demon or human - named 'Godo'. He also knows that his map _is_ accurate; he has seen his lands from above on enough occasions to know this."

"From above? You mean from an airship? Good! If you could tell me where they are, I could hire one to take me back to where I'm supposed to be."

"This Sesshoumaru knows of no 'air ship'; he flies under his own power. He has also already pointed out that he knows no 'Wutai' and has yet to send out queries to his informants."

Now it was really starting to sink in, despite the way that everything he knew argued against it as impossible. The way that Sesshoumaru's map fit perfectly with the one he has made since he had awakened after his dip in Nibelheim's reactor. The way that nothing about the daiyoukai's map lined up with his own well-memorized map of Wutai; and he _knew_ it was accurate - nine years spent waging war across it made him absolutely certain of it.

All right. Time to count the facts.

Fact: His own map of Wutai was accurate.

Fact: Sesshoumaru's map was _also_ accurate.

Fact: The maps were clearly _not_ the same and their only similarity seemed to be the fact that they were islands.

Conclusion? He was _not_ in Wutai. And, considering the fact that Sesshoumaru's map didn't mesh with _any_ part of Shinra's map of the world....

"Where _am_ I?"


	17. Chapter 17

Sephiroth didn't leave his room for two days.

Two days he drifted in black depression, suddenly cast adrift with no direction and nothing to hang on to. He wasn't in Wutai. Hell, he wasn't even on _Gaia!_ He had no idea _how_ he had gotten to... wherever _this_ was... and for the first time in his life he had nothing.

One might think that that wasn't exactly true, that his so-called childhood in the labs, growing up with nothing that was solely _his_ and no control over anything that was done to him, he had also had nothing. They would be wrong. Even in the worst of it, his body convulsing and aching as Hojo's chemical cocktails surged through his veins, he had always had a goal, something to hope for, to work for, to live for.

Get out of the labs. Achieve victory for the company in order to _stay_ out of the labs. Oversee his SOLDIERs' training, keep them alive if he could. Find answers to his questions. Find loopholes around the stupidest of the orders he was given while both achieving victory and avoiding unnecessary lab-time.

All of that was gone.

Here, there was no Shinra, no orders, no Hojo. There would be no answers to the question of his parents. Here, he was nothing. His rank, his name, even what he was - SOLDIER - meant nothing. He was nothing and no one and there was nothing to strive for because all his answers were back on Gaia.

Granted, he _had_ intended to leave Shinra so that lack he had already done his best to prepare himself for, but the rest...?

Sephiroth was finding that he _didn't_ cope well with his sudden lack of focus.

What was he supposed to do now?

**oOo**

That was _it;_ Sesshoumaru had had _enough._

He had left Sephiroth alone for two days thinking that, like himself, the other man would appreciate the privacy as he tried to pull himself together, but the man seemed determined to do anything but.

Granted, Sephiroth might not know that in a mansion full of demons a closed door didn't really mean much, but Sesshoumaru couldn't allow the man's chaotic emotions to disturb the smooth running of his household any longer.

And they _were_ chaotic. Hanging heavy in the air in a slowly-expanding area centered on his room, Sephiroth's aura was an almost-tangible miasma, easily scented by now by even the weakest demons. It wouldn't have had quite as much of an impact if it was only projecting a single emotion. It still wouldn't have been _pleasant_ , but it would have been a bit easier.

Instead, they got a chaotic jumble of depression, anger, sadness, confusion, apathy, and blinding rage. It was enough to trigger a demon's instinct for danger and trigger a powerful fight-or-flight response. Several of his rabbit-demon servants had already fled by the second morning, and the number of demons eyeing the doors and fidgeting grew as time went by.

Even his little Rin was not unaffected, sunk into a quiet listlessness very unlike her usual cheerful self. It was her breaking out in unfounded tears at breakfast on the third day that cemented his determination to end it.

Oddly enough, while even he, Sesshoumaru, had developed a minor headache thanks to the chaotically-flaring aura that wreaked havoc on his sensitive nose and senses, Jaken was completely undisturbed and unaware, going about his usual duties with an obliviousness that made Sesshoumaru's hand itch for a good throwing-rock.

Enough. Was. Enough.

Sesshoumaru summoned a servant and gave him a series of orders. After that he worked on some of his paperwork and correspondence until he judged that enough time had passed for his orders to have been fulfilled. He had heard no one in the hallway for some time.

He got up, left the study and made his way down the hallways to Sephiroth's room, instincts scraping his nerves raw with every step he took in that direction. Yes, this would _not_ be allowed to continue. He could only hope that his solution worked as well for his guest as it did for _him._

The door was closed when he got there, but Sesshoumaru barely paused. He slid the portal open then went right in.

Blue-green eyes shot up in surprise, then Sephiroth spoke. "And here I thought that when the door is closed, other people are supposed to stay on the other side of it," he said with listless sarcasm, clearly sunk into another apathetic stage.

Guest or not, no one spoke to Sesshoumaru like that. He could understand _why_ the man was acting as he was - even _he_ would most likely be affected by finding himself somewhere completely unknown to him with no warning - but it would _not_ be allowed to continue.

"Get up," he said.

Sephiroth, sitting listlessly against the far wall - though straight-backed, not slumped; he seemed as incapable of slouching as Sesshoumaru himself - didn't move. "Why?"

His headache quickly rising from 'minor' to 'blinding' thanks to his being so close to the source of that fluctuating emotional aura, Sesshoumaru didn't bother to answer. Instead, his mokomoko shot out lightning-quick, wrapped around Sephiroth from chest to knee, then the daiyoukai turned and left the room, bringing the other man with him, ignoring his futile attempts to get free.

**oOo**

Sephiroth was fuming, his apathy burned away under the flame of rage that filled him at Sesshoumaru's treatment. What right did he have to do this to him? He hadn't left his room, so it wasn't as if he was being disruptive! Was it so wrong to want to be alone as his world collapsed around him? Oh, but that's right; it wasn't even his world, was it?! He knew he was being a bit irrational, probably even a little hysterical, but could anyone really blame him for that, considering the circumstances?

Sesshoumaru could, apparently.

He _still_ didn't know what the furry thing now wrapped around him with unshakable tightness _was._

Focused on trying to get free - and making absolutely no progress - Sephiroth paid no attention to their surroundings until they suddenly stopped and he was set down on his feet, the furry thing uncoiling and zipping back to the daiyoukai. He glared. "Now just _what-_ "

Sesshoumaru raised his arm and pointed off to one side. "Destroy them."

Blue-green eyes blinked. "What?"

"Destroy them," Sesshoumaru repeated calmly.

It was then that Sephiroth realized that the pale demon had brought them to what seemed to be this place's equivalent of a training room.

It was a large, open courtyard. A row of archery targets sat under cover against one wall. The ground was dirt packed hard by hundreds of feet over the years. It was filled with what looked like a small army of wooden training dummies in all shapes and sizes.

"Sesshoumaru...?"

"Destroy them."

He didnt' have to repeat it again. Sephiroth called the Masamune and unleashed everything that had been building up since he had seen their maps and realized his impossible situation. All the rage, the depression, the frustration and the 'now what?' was sent crashing into the hapless dummies with a lightning-quick blur of shining steel.

He didn't know how long it was before he looked around only to find that he had reduced his wooden adversaries to so much kindling. 

"Better?" Sesshoumaru asked, though his tone said he already knew the answer.

Sephiroth nodded. Surprisingly, that bout of angry destruction had helped. "Yes," he said. "Why did y-"

"Good." Without another word, Sesshoumaru turned and walked away.

Sephiroth followed. If he was going to be stuck there in that place - and just then he could see no way of getting back - then damned if he would stay a guest forever.

He was Sephiroth. He was highly trained in war and skilled in politics. Surely, there had to be _something_ he could do!

Following behind the pale demon lord, he couldn't shake the growing feeling that whatever _it_ turned out to be, Sesshoumaru would be there as well. It was a strangely comforting thought.


	18. Chapter 18

Silver hair flared in the wind as they moved with almost impossible speed, rushing together and apart with only the cold ring of steel-on-steel or the occasional scent of fresh blood from minor wounds to show for it.

It wasn't something that either one of them had anticipated.

Sesshoumaru had indeed found use for Sephiroth once the man explained the position he had held, the training and political skill he had acquired. His new position wasn't the same as his old one back at Shinra; Sesshoumaru already had enough generals and the simple fact that Sephiroth was human meant that no demon would follow his commands unless he could defeat every one who would challenge his right to do so. Which he undoubtedly _could_ , but doing so would waste time that could be better spent elsewhere.

So Sephiroth found himself in the newly-created role of advisor-slash-assistant to the daiyoukai, and Sesshoumaru found himself having such an aide for the first time since he had taken control of the Western Lands when his father died.

Sesshoumaru had to admit that, once he got used to the other man's constant presence at his side, it was actually rather nice to have someone he could trust there, helping him go through his paperwork, giving sound advice when asked but otherwise content to let the time pass in silence. Jaken had tried to help him once, but the imp posessed almost no sense of organization, nor could he keep his beak shut for any length of time. Sesshoumaru made the mistake of asking his thoughts on a simple matter and the imp went off on a tangent about the daiyoukai's undefeatable power and incalculable wisdom before Sesshoumaru sent him away. He was surprised - and, he admitted to himself if to no one else - rather pleased that not only did Sephiroth give his unvarnished opinion when asked, he also didn't hesitate to contradict the daiyoukai when he felt he should. While Sesshoumaru didn't always agree with Sephiroth's advice, nor always follow it, he _did_ listen and, when it was radically different from his own thoughts, occasionally ask him to explain his reasoning.

Neither was quite sure who had started their new ritual. It could have been either of them, since both had seen the reports detailing the rising cost of replacing the wooden dummies they decimated whenever they needed to vent.

It was after they found another such report that Sephiroth, feeling a bit of nostalgia for the Shinra training facilities, had shared more than one story about how he, Genesis, and Angeal used to sneak into the virtual training lab and their escapades there with Sesshoumaru. Perhaps it had started there.

Now, whenever they could tell that one of them needed the release pure destruction brought, they would challenge each other to a spar. Even more attractive to both was the fact that even without the holding back they did, keeping their more destructive attacks back so that they didn't damage the palace, they were still equal enough in skill and power that the outcome of their sparring was always a mystery right up until the end. And, though neither man enjoyed losing, they found that with each other, they didn't really mind.

At first, most of their spars were for Sephiroth's benefit as he worked through first the upheval from his involuntary displacement, then the frustration that came with the fact that Wutainese script was just similar enough to Sesshoumaru's 'Japanese' that he felt like he _should_ be able to understand it, but different enough that he _couldn't_. Granted, it didn't take him long to pick it up, but that week or so was intensely frustrating.

Sesshoumaru, for his part, was much more used to the frustration some of the papers caused him - or rather, the outright stupidity some of the actions those papers described. And people wondered why he held most others in such low regard? If they had to deal with even half of the reports that crossed his desk...! It was good that Sephiroth was there. It was so much better taking out his frustration in a fight with a real opponent so close to his own skill level instead of a bunch of unmoving, unreacting wooden figures that there was simply no point in comparing the two.

Another clang of steel-on-steel, a brief shoving match as both tried to fling the other away, only to back away and start circling once more, the light in blue-green eyes matched by that in gold. Both were too used to their typical impassive masks to smile openly but the signs were there if you knew where to look.

As one week turned into two, then a month, they no longer needed the excuse of venting and challenged each other to spar almost every day, something that both came to look forward to. The rush of adrenaline, the hard pumping of their hearts at the exertion, the disheveled hair and bright eyes, even the eventual panting and sweat... it was almost like a drug, and both came to crave it.

**oOo**

That day started much the same as all the others. Breakfast in the dining hall with everyone, then the two silver-haired men retreated to Sesshoumaru's study even as Rin and Jaken left to start her daily lessons and the everyone else left to begin their own daily duties.

With both of them working on it, Sesshoumaru armed with ink and pen, Sephiroth with the royal seal, the paperwork and correspondence were taken care of in a matter of hours.

It was then, with all distraction now gone, that Sesshoumaru could no longer ignore the agitation that had been growing inside since breakfast. He didn't know why he was so restless; the paperwork had been only the typical for the day-to-day running of his lands, with a bare minimum of stupidity. Then again, whatever it was, he had the feeling that whatever it was, it _wasn't_ caused by that.

Maybe a good fight would help soothe his ruffled nerves. The harder, the better.

Attuned to Sesshoumaru's moods by then, Sephiroth made the offer. "Spar?" he said simply, standing.

"Yes," Sesshoumaru agreed, "and some distance away from the walls."

Sephiroth understood the implication immediately. "Full-out, then?" he asked, eyes lighting up at the thought; he could use a good, hard fight as well.

Sesshoumaru nodded, getting to his feet. He led the way through the palace, then out the door. Ignoring everyone else, the two of them went out the main gate, then turned toward the near edge of an extensive forest and started walking.

The daiyoukai had expected his agitation to calm a bit once they were out of the palace and into the woods on their way to finding a good place to fight, but it wasn't. If anything, it was getting worse. He was beginning to feel almost feral, and the urge to fight, to prove his superiority to the man at his side, the man whose power rivaled his own, was only growing stronger with every step.

Sephiroth, for his part, was not unaffected by the battle-ready tension he could feel rolling off the other man in almost tangible waves. Even as he wondered what had set him off, what was wrong, what was different about _that_ day as opposed to any other, he couldn't help but respond. He could feel himself slip into that strange sense of absolute focus he got whenever he went into battle, along with a tension and feeling that was almost wild; the call to fight, to defeat all challengers, to defeat _this_ challenger.

"Sephiroth," Sesshoumaru growled. He could feel his eyes bleeding red, heart starting to race as anticipation rose up in him.

"Yes?" If Sephiroth was at all startled by Sesshoumaru's red eyes or now-jagged markings, seen only once before in their first fight in the temple, it didn't show up in his voice. If anything, it kicked him up into new heights of aggressive anticipation.

"Run," Sesshoumaru almost-purred. Then he attacked, claws flashing green.


	19. Chapter 19

The scent of blood was hot and rich, filling the air around them as they fought.

Sephiroth had ignored Sesshoumaru's almost-playful request that he run. Instead, he dodged the daiyoukai's swipe with inhuman speed, drew his short knives and struck back, and the fight moved on from there.

It was in some ways similar to their usual sparring, only now, out in the forest and well away from the palace, they were free to wreak as much destruction as they wished. But while both took advantage of that fact - as evidenced by wide swaths of shattered trees and new craters - both had yet to draw their swords.

Sesshoumaru grunted as he flew backwards, chest aching with the force of Sephiroth's kick, and went right through two healthy trees before stopping. Charging almost immediately once he regained his feet, he managed to grab the other man by the front of his haori and, with one quick spin returned the favor, the groaning and crashing of shattering trees making sure that if there was any wildlife anywhere nearby it would quickly be leaving for a quieter spot.

Hours had passed since they had started, both spurred on by the need to prove their dominance, and while they themselves had taken no major wounds, the same could not be said of their clothes. Sliced by claw and knife, their haori would never be the same; some places still somehow almost whole while others were mere tatters held together through sheer stubbornness more than anything else, edges spotted with blood from the cuts on the body beneath. Long silver hair was windswept and tangled, dotted here and there with the occasional leaf or bit of greenery. Claws and knives both bore the thin red sheen of blood and their eyes were alive with the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline rush, the feral need to prove to the other man that... what? What _were_ they trying to do beyond holding out for the win?

Sesshoumaru shrugged away the question as unnecessary before attacking once again. He scored a shallow graze to Sephiroth's shoulder before he was forced to evade the knife-led counterattack. The scent of fresh blood in the air, coming from Sephiroth's shoulder and his own claws, was heavenly. He could feel it coming up from deep inside even as his eyes turned a darker shade of red and his fangs grew a little bigger; the almost overwhelming urge to grab the now-charging Sephiroth, throw him to the ground, and taste that blood even as he asserted himself.

As both an inuyoukai and Lord of the Western Lands, the basic urge to keep what was his by defeating any and all challengers to his rule was not a new one. What was odd was the depth and strength of it. Never before had he felt this much of a thrill, this much anticipation, this much... anything, really. Certainly he had never had such a fight with someone so close to his own level, nor had his youkai bothered to manifest itself as it was, evidenced by his eyes, fangs, and claws.

It was only with Sephiroth.

Why was he so different?

And _why_ did he almost-purr when Sephiroth took advantage of his brief distraction to tackle him to the ground, his back hitting the leafy ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs? Almost immediately, Sephiroth had moved to solidify his hold; pinning the red-striped wrist to the ground near the daiyoukai's head, his weight settling restrictively on top of his thighs as he grinned down at him.

"Got you," the former General almost growled, pupils mere slits in excitement, a faint flush of exertion coloring his face.

This time Sesshoumaru _did_ growl as he took stock of his position. On his back, belly up and exposed to Sephiroth, his wrist pinned and legs held down... No! He was Sesshoumaru, and the daiyoukai of the Western Lands! He would _not_ be staying in such a submissive position! He was the lord, the ruler, the alpha male, and he would prove his right to be so-!

The pinned demon tugged against Sephiroth's hold, but the other man was clearly experienced in the ways of holding someone down. Unfortunately for him, he'd never held anyone _quite_ like Sesshoumaru.

Though it went against every instinct he had, Sesshoumaru forced himself to relax, to let his head slip slightly to one side, almost - but not _quite_ \- baring the smooth expanse of his throat. Just enough of a glimpse to tantalize....

Human Sephiroth might be but the feral, instinct-driven part that was so much in control just then recognized a show of submission when it saw one and all but crowed in victory. Blue-green eyes were inexplicably drawn towards the pale throat even as the urge to sink his teeth in, to mark that throat, that being, as _his_ grew. Moving on instinct, he shifted his weight slightly and leaned forward, eyes locked on the smooth column of his goal, mouth flooding with saliva in anticipation. Just one bite....

On the ground Sesshoumaru waited, fighting back his instinct to struggle with an effort. He was rewarded for his effort when Sephiroth's weight shifted, his grip on the daiyoukai's wrist relaxing as he leaned in, gleaming eyes fixated on the exposed throat in a way that put his instincts on high alert.

He didn't... he couldn't.... Sephiroth, no matter his odd strength, abilities, and scent, was still just a human. He couldn't possibly understand... he couldn't.... But it certainly _looked_ like he was planning on biting, and that could _not_ be allowed. Not ever while Sesshoumaru was in that position. He, Sesshoumaru, was beta to no one!

Still he waited, though it was harder now that he had sensed Sephiroth's unexpected intent and knew just what he was risking. If he moved too late... it was something that didn't bear thinking about. He would just have to make sure he wasn't late. He waited... waited... waited....

Struck.

The moment a small gust of warm, moist air hit his neck, he heaved, surging up with his hips and legs even as he tore his wrist free of the slackened grip. Reaching up, he grabbed a thick handful of silver and _yanked_ , hard, even as he twisted, shoving with demonic strength and speed.

Sephiroth blinked, thoughts filtering back into his head with an effort. What happened...? He had pinned Sesshoumaru, briefly exalted in his victory, and then... and then.... He couldn't really remember anything besides the sight of that pale throat and the driving urge to sink his teeth in. 

What the-? Why would he-? Why-? He hadn't actually... had he?

Looking up, he was somewhat reassured when he saw the daiyoukai's neck free of Sephiroth-bites. He didn't know how the other man would have reacted if he had-

Wait a minute.

When did _he_ end up on the ground?

And... and _why_ was Sesshoumaru looking at him like that? That almost-hungry look, the one that abruptly reminded him that though the other man might _look_ human - more or less - he _wasn't_. He had been almost a friend, if tentatively and cautiously, for the past few weeks since Sephiroth's arrival, but the SOLDIER knew how quickly things could get out of hand in the heat of battle.

Speaking of heat, was it getting hotter out...? He shrugged the thought aside. Whether it was or it wasn't, what mattered was getting off the ground and back into the fight, though the demon didn't seem terribly interested in fighting just then, red eyes fixed on his neck.

Where were his knives? Sesshoumaru had him well-pinned, but with only one arm the man was at a bit of a disadvantage. He had one of Sephiroth's wrists pinned with unshakable efficiency, but his other arm was just slightly beneath him and could be freed easily enough. If he could just locate his knives, he would feel a lot better about his chances of survival if Sesshoumaru really _did_ try for his throat.

Turning his head - slowly, slowly, don't startle him! - he looked first left, then right, but didn't see his knives anywhere. Moving slowly, deliberately, he arched his back and tipped his head back as far as he could to look above him, ignoring the way the back of his head ground into the dirt. If his knives weren't there, he would have no choice but to rely on his fists and the Masamune. The long blade was terrible for close combat, but it would have to-

He froze, hardly daring to breathe as the razor-sharp points of Sesshoumaru's fangs closed almost delicately around his throat, barely grazing the skin before they stopped, what could only be a deep, rumbling purr resonating in the other man's chest.

What the-?

The thought was echoed by Sesshoumaru as the sudden submissive immobility of the body beneath him allowed conscious thought back in. What had happened...?

He remembered flipping them, getting himself out of the submissive position, pinning the other man and taking his place as dominant. He knew his own abilities, knew that he could keep Sephiroth down for only a little while if the other man made a serious effort; they were too well-matched, which gave him a distinct disadvantage when it came to brute-force wrestling thanks to his missing arm. Then Sephiroth moved, arching his back and baring all of his throat in the most blatant sign of total submission he had seen in a long time. He certainly hadn't expected to see it from _Sephiroth_ , and the next thing he knew his mouth was wrapped around that throat and he was growling in satisfaction at the other man's implicit acknowledgement of his superiority.

Pleased, he gently eased his fangs away from the vulnerable neck, giving it a satisfied lick as he pulled away.

The warmth of dominant satisfaction didn't last long. The instant the fangs were safely away, Sephiroth attacked.

From that point on, the fight lost any sense of skill and grace it may have had, dissolving into a free-for-all of flashing claws and swinging fists as both men, instincts screaming at them to enforce their superiority and force the other into submission, went at each other with feral instinct, growls rising into the air, the scent of fresh blood - both their own and not - only spurring them on.

Once-fine silk went flying as their haori gave way under the rush of blows, leaving behind only scraps that did more to emphasize the well-toned bodies beneath than to preserve any sense of modesty.

Instinct raging, adrenaline surging, hearts racing, neither could pinpoint the moment when the fight went from the lust for blood to lust of an entirely different sort. All they knew was that one moment they were doing their best to tear each other apart and the next....

...the next they were lying tangled together on the ground, comfortably cushioned by Sesshoumaru's mokomoko, Sephiroth's legs still wrapped around the daiyoukai's waist as they came back down from an orgasmic high, Sesshoumaru lapping almost fondly at a wicked bite mark on Sephiroth's shoulder near the base of his neck.

Both men froze as they realized where they were, what they had done, and who they were with.

_What_ had just _happened?_


	20. Chapter 20

It was raining.

It wasn't one of those small showers that stayed just long enough to get everything good and damp before leaving as quickly as it had appeared. _This_ was nothing short of a torrential downpour, drenching everything in mere seconds and showing no sign of moving on any time soon, the clouds dark and heavy with the promise of lots more water to come. It was falling hard enough that you could barely see across the courtyard and the faint smell of wet dog demon filled the air from those unlucky enough to have been caught outside when it hit.

The rain was fine with Sephiroth. The only way that the weather could better match his mood would be to add in a good bout of rolling thunder and crashing lightning, possibly even with the addition of a good earth tremor for good measure.

It had been a week since their spar in the forest and Sephiroth and Sesshoumaru had both done their best to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They hadn't talked about it, hadn't referred to it in any way, as if they were hoping to make it unhappen with the sheer strength of their denial.

But not talking about it didn't suppress slowly-returning memory and the once-comfortable silence that hung between them as they worked had become awkward and full of silent spikes. Still they ignored it, and while they still indulged in their daily spars, they were careful not to let them get out of hand, kept a firm stranglehold on the feral instinct that would rouse now every time they set foot into the training yard. They were never anything less than polite to each other, but the easy feeling of slowly-budding friendship had been replaced by the feeling of awkward distance.

The dreams that had started since then, memories of their fight in the woods given new life, didn't do anything to ease the new tension between them.

And now _this._

In the week that had passed since their... encounter, demonic and enhanced healing had taken care of their wounds, the cuts and scrapes closed cleanly, leaving no scars to mark their passing.

All wounds except one.

When a week had passed and the wound on his shoulder was not only still there but still leaking blood if he cleaned it a bit too vigorously, Sephiroth decided that he should probably see what passed for a doctor in that place. He put it off as long as he could - his past left him no fan of the medical profession - but eventually the need to know what was going on, what was happening to him, why the wound refused to heal as it should have, drove him to ask one of the servants for directions to the healer's quarters.

As he made his way there, he couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't something he knew, something he'd seen once before. Genesis, after all, had gotten a wound to the shoulder that refused to heal, that had actually been the first sign of his impending degradation. Was he himself _not_ immune to that degradation like they had all assumed? Was this a sign of his own impending mental meltdown and ultimate demise? If it _was_ degradation, there would be no way he could find a cure where he was; everything was so primitive compared to the electrical wonders he was used to. If that was it....

His nerves were soothed, if only just a little, when he entered the healer's rooms at their quiet _'Come in'_ and was greeted not by the harsh scent of chemicals and _sterile_ accompanied by too-bright lights and hell in lab coats but a simple room, open and smelling of the various drying plants and herbs that hung from hooks in the rafters. A wooden unit of hundreds of tiny drawers lined one wall, shelves filled with bottles of concoctions lined another. The room was open and airy and didn't bring back _any_ unpleasant memories from his time under Hojo's thumb.

The healer herself was an older woman, old enough to have begun to show her age despite her demonic heritage. She walked over when he came in and slid the door shut behind him, abandoning the plants she had been chopping on a table without a second thought. Her clothes were plain and practical, with none of the long billowing sleeves to get in the way while she worked. The distinct lack of anything that could even vaguely be called a lab coat didn't hurt either, and a little of the tension that had crept into him on the way there left his shoulders.

"Ah," she said as she walked over. "Welcome. I am Yumeko, the palace healer. And you would be Sesshoumaru's new human, yes?"

"I am Sephiroth," the former general corrected, ignoring the little spark of irritation that appeared at the implication that he belonged to the daiyoukai. He had long since had enough of being someone's property - first Hojo's, then Shinra's - and he had no intention of ever allowing it again. He was his own being and would never again allow someone to own him, would fight to the death if he had to!

Some of that feeling must have bled through into his tone because the healer smiled gently. "Of course, my apologies," she said. "So, Sephiroth, what brings you to me today?"

Now that the moment had come, all his apprehension towards doctors and scientists returned full force. If this was Shinra, the only thing he would have had to look forward to after announcing his injury was being locked up in a lab in the Shinra building and being tested and experimented on until Hojo was satisfied that they had solved the mystery of his unhealing wound - and any other questions or tests that had popped into his deranged mind while he had Sephiroth strapped down on the cold metal table and helpless.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again silently in trepidation. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe he should wait another week. The wound didn't actually _hurt_ , after all... though that strange lack of pain _had_ been one of the reasons he had decided to go to a healer in the first place....

Yumeko saw his brief glance at the door and knew he was thinking about leaving. She also knew that anything that could have driven him to come to her in the first place was most likely something that _needed_ to be seen to and had probably already been left for longer than it should have. _Men!_ It seemed that the stronger they were, the stupider they got when it came to getting their injuries tended properly. Most of them tried brushing them off as nothing, though, and this Sephiroth seemed more nervous than anything else. She didn't doubt that if she got between him and the door that he would go right through a wall to get away.

That was no good; she couldn't work on someone that nerved up.

Sephiroth watched as she went over to the wall of drawers, took up a small bowl and added dried plants from three different drawers to it before taking it to the small fireplace and dumping them into a warm kettle there to brew. She looked up, saw him watching her, and gestured at a floor pillow across from her.

"Sit, please," she said. "We will have tea, and then we will talk."

Knowing that refusing would be considered very rude didn't stop Sephiroth from casting a last longing glance at the door before he went to the indicated pillow and sat down. It didn't take long before he had a tall mug of tea clasped in hands he was still getting used to seeing without his gloves.

The clothing he'd arrived in, the leathers that were his trademark back on Gaia, had been expertly repaired, cleaned, and returned to him. They were in his room, neatly put away, and likely to remain there unless he could find some way to get back. The clothes he'd been provided with, still along the same lines as those he had borrowed from Sesshoumaru, were more than adequate and he found himself enjoying the new freedom of movement they allowed him during their spars.

...Why did so many of his trains of thought end up with Sesshoumaru lately? If it kept up it seemed like he would be turning into a human - and less vocal - version of Sesshoumaru's green toad-thing Jaken!

He took a quick sniff of his tea, then a cautious sip, pleased it turned out to be quite pleasant instead of the bitter stuff he'd had back on Gaia.

"Good?" Yumeko asked with a small smile.

"Acceptable," he said, taking another sip. "What's in it?"

"This and that," she answered. "It is a good tea for nervous pups like yourself."

Sephiroth ignored the 'pup' comment; it was something he had gotten used to in a palace ruled and run by dog demons. "I see."

They finished their tea in companionable silence.

Then there was no more putting it off and Sephiroth, after one last glance at the door, decided to trust her. At least a little; he had finished her tea and was still perfectly conscious, without even a little grogginess that would point to treachery. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he'd feared....

"I have a wound," he said at last, "and even though it's small, it refuses to close."

"I see," she said. "And how long have you had this wound?"

"A week."

"Hmmm. From a fight, I'm guessing?"

A faint flush appeared on Sephiroth's face as the memory of exactly _how_ he had ended up with that injury flashed in his mind. Still, it had _started_ as a normal spar.... "...Yes."

"Can I take a look at it?"

One last, brief hesitation, then Sephiroth shrugged his haori off on one side, baring the area, then pulled free the bandage that both protected the wound and kept the blood from staining his clothes.

Yumeko came closer and looked at it. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she looked at him. "This is no ordinary wound, pup," she said.

So it _was_ degradation, then? But how could she be so sure? It had taken Hollander days of tests to diagnose it in Genesis! But what else could it be? "What do you mean?" he asked at last.

She told him, and explained what it meant.

Now he stalked towards the study where he and Sesshoumaru usually worked at that time of day, his thoughts awash in a blind, red rage that would have done Genesis proud, blue-green eyes screaming death and sending servants skittering out of his way in fear.

One thought and one thought only echoed endlessly in his head, only feeding the anger that surged through him.

He would _not_ be owned again.


	21. Chapter 21

It was raining.

While Sesshoumaru didn't mind the rain in itself - he actually found the sound of it on the roof rather soothing - he didn't care for the way that his workload tended to increase due to others' stupidity when it did. For instance, the report he was currently reading. Some of the guards had to be reassigned thanks to two who, not wanting to get wetter than they had to, had decided to run back to the barracks and encountered a patch of mud. The mud apparently won their argument and the two would be off-duty for a few days so that their sprains and broken bones could mend. It was the same thing every time it rained.

Other than rain-specific injuries, the papers and reports he had to deal with were more of the same thing he - and now Sephiroth - had to deal with every day.

Speaking of Sephiroth, where was the man? Usually, he would follow Sesshoumaru back to his study after the morning meal and they would work through everything that had accumulated since the day before. He might not say it outright but he was glad to have such capable assistance, and the fact that Sephiroth was unafraid to give his own thoughts on things - may they be the incidents themselves or Sesshoumaru's handling of them - was something he valued. Not that he would _act_ on all the other man's recommendations - he might be strangely intelligent for a human, but he _was_ still only human and these were demon affairs - but he _would_ listen and consider those thoughts when he made his own decisions.

None of which made it any easier to push aside the memory of what he had done - what _they_ had done - a week before.

All week, he had done something he hadn't done since he was a pup and his great and terrible father had chided him for it: Ignored the problem and hoped it went away.

But even with both he and Sephiroth apparently hoping the same thing, that one simple fact stubbornly refused to undo itself, hanging unspoken between them in glittering, sharp-edged splendor.

The dreams that had haunted him since then, a strange mix of what actually _had_ happened and what _could_ have happened, and could _still_ be happening were they both to accept instead of fighting it, didn't help either.

Where _was_ Sephiroth?

He had to admit that since he had pulled the other man from his downward spiral of depression and unfocused anger, Sephiroth had apparently adjusted surprisingly well to his new circumstances. He wasn't sure that _he_ would be able to say the same should he find himself in what seemed to be completely unknown lands, especially with the differences Sephiroth had tried to explain to him once. While he was more than half certain that some of what he'd been told was exaggerated somewhat - was he to believe that they could actually cook without fire? Really, now - it only served to point out how different _there_ must be from _here._

Where _was_ Sephi-

Oh. There he was.

Sesshoumaru looked up at the sudden angry - no, it wasn't angry. It was _well_ beyond angry and into blood-rage - flare in that now-familiar aura. His mokomoko became even puffier as the raging aura scraped at his senses, making his hair stand on end. _Something_ had apparently pushed Sephiroth a _bit_ too far.

The daiyoukai was surprised to feel a flash of almost guilt as he realized that somehow, some way, Sephiroth must have just found out exactly what had happened between them.

The feeling surprised him. Granted, he hadn't planned any of it - and never would have either - but what was done was done and his demon would never have bound him to someone _completely_ unsuitable.

Except that Sephiroth was, wasn't he?

Yes, he had all the qualities that Sesshoumaru would like in a mate: strength, skill, intelligence, honesty, and a hefty dose of political sense, among other things. But there were two points that negated all of that and made him unsuitable. One, he was human. Two, he was male.

The first - his human state - could, possibly, be ignored. His father had done it, after all, and Sephiroth's almost demonic speed and power could almost compensate for it.

The second, however, was as solid and immutable as the mountains themselves, and as likely to change. It wasn't that all-male pairings were frowned on in demonic cultures as they were in the human; while they weren't _common_ , they _were_ accepted when they occurred. But Sesshoumaru wasn't just any demon. He was Lord of the Western Lands and as such, it was his duty to keep those lands safe and to ensure their safety in the future with the creation of an heir. Something that Sephiroth, being male, could not give him.

So _why_ , when he was so clearly _not_ a possibility, had his demon taken the opportunity to mark him as his mate? He'd been trying to figure it out all week with no success. Then again, maybe he had been overthinking it. He had been looking at it from a logical, rational standpoint, but his demon was anything _but;_ a creature of feral power and instinct.

All right, look at it from that perspective. What had happened that day?

They had been fighting - challenged! - and coming up almost equal. That would impress the demon, set Sephiroth apart from the rest. Blood - his own and Sephiroth's odd sour-sweet - had scented the air, sending his demon into a deeper frenzy. Then Sephiroth had pinned him to the ground.

Pinned _him_ , a clear demonstration of aggression and dominance and further challenge.

He'd gotten free and pinned Sephiroth in turn, reasserting his position as lord, as alpha, as dominant. His demon had been happy with that, _he'd_ been happy with that, and while he'd still had the power of battle-born lust running through him, he was too much in control to give in to it, even when Sephiroth had bared first one side of his throat, then the other. He was only human, after all; he couldn't know what he was offering with that gesture.

Then Sephiroth had arched his back and showed more throat than the daiyoukai had ever been offered before in a blatant sign of absolute submission that stunned him enough to let his demon surge back into control and the next thing he knew he was feeling the slow ebb of euphoria from a completed rut and mated.

All right, when he looked at it that way it was almost embarrassing that he hadn't figured it out before.

None of which was helping him now.

Sephiroth had submitted to him and his demon had accepted. Now that he thought about it, it was Sephiroth's action that had spurred his demon into action. If he hadn't bared his throat like that, they wouldn't be mated now. Wasn't that convenient for the man? One moment he had nothing but the clothing he'd arrived in, the next he was mated to the Lord of the Western Lands, his own status and prestige boosted because of it. 

Had that been his plan all along?

Had he, Sesshoumaru, been played?

Golden eyes narrowed, reddening slightly at the thought.

He would find out. He would find out if Sephiroth's submission had been real, or if it was part of someone's scheme to take over his lands. The other lords had been offering their daughters in such hopes long enough that it wouldn't surprise him if one decided to offer men instead. Humans didn't take long to raise; was Sephiroth's resemblance to him, had everything about him that first sparked Sesshoumaru's curiosity, had it all been planned? Had the man been raised to fulfil that one task? To seduce the daiyoukai of the West?

He would find out who or what Sephiroth really was, which lord he was working for, and then he would show him a beta's place and where his loyalties _should_ lie.

Decided, Sesshoumaru put aside his paperwork, stood, and went to stand facing the door. 

Then he waited for that angry, spiky aura to come to him like a good beta should.

One tiny, logical part of his mind wondered why Sephiroth would be angry at all if it had been part of some plan all along, but it was drowned under the sea of Sesshoumaru's surging anger.

He stood, watched the door, and waited.


	22. Chapter 22

The door didn't so much open as explode inward, folding in the middle with a crunch of splintering wood and the dry rip of paper as it flew out of its grooves and into the study, barely missing the angry daiyoukai.

Sesshoumaru dodged the remains of the study door only to find himself flying backwards through the far wall and into the inner courtyard to land with a splash of rain water and the squish of mud, skidding back an impressive distance before coming to a halt, the new pain blossoming in his jaw his only hint that he'd actually been hit by a blow he hadn't even seen coming. Quick as thought he was back on his feet, the torrential rain both hindering his sight and washing the newly-acquired mud down his back in thick glops.

Sephiroth, despite the blinding rain, was not hard to spot as he stalked out of the new hole in the wall, across the narrow covered porch and down into the courtyard after Sesshoumaru; his aura still pulsing with angry bursts one single hit had done nothing to alleviate, the air around him flickering almost red.

It was a familiar enough sight to the demon; he himself had a similar corona just before he unleashed his true form; the visible manifestation of his demonic energy. But why would Sephiroth have one? As a human, he shouldn't have any youki! What else could it-

"How dare you do this to me!" Sephiroth raged, cutting through Sesshoumaru's scrambled thoughts with angry ease. "I am not a thing to be owned! Get this mark off of me!" The man had been too well-raised to actually resort to name-calling, but it was more than clear enough that he wanted to.

Reddened golden eyes narrowed, more red bleeding in as the words sank in. Was the duplicitous, scheming mongrel actually trying to accuse _him_ of being the cause of their little predicament?

"You should have thought of that before you made your play of seduction. To think that this Sesshoumaru sheltered such a harlot in his own home and even almost trusted you! His father would be ashamed! Which of them sent you? Which lord is it that sent you to this Sesshoumaru? Tell him!"

Blue-green eyes narrowed to mere slits, flashing an eerie green, and the red aura around him grew even more obvious, surging almost the color of flame. " _Me?_ You're trying to blame _me_ for this? I. Think. Not. _I_ didn't do anything to provoke this, you-!" It was more than clear that a stream of curses wanted to burst free, but a lifetime's habit of suppressing them was proving to be difficult to overcome no matter how much he wanted to. "You started this, now _you_ will finish it! It's _your_ mark, so take. It. Back!"

Gold disappeared entirely as red claimed the eyes. "I? _I?_ This Sesshoumaru did no such thing! _You_ started it, flirting with him in battle and plying your seductive wiles!"

"I was _not_ flirting, and I _certainly_ wasn't seducing!"

"Do not lie! The challenge for dominance was clear, as was your submission. Well played; this Sesshoumaru only just realized what you had done. Now _which_ lord sent you to him?"

"My _submission? What_ submission? You think I _asked_ for this? You're out of your mind!"

"Hardly. This Sesshoumaru is seeing very clearly now. And yes, your submission. You bared your belly and throat to him. If that wasn't a sign of the utmost submission, what was it?"

It took Sephiroth a moment to dig up the relevant memory. "You can't be-! That wasn't a show of submission!" he raged.

"What would _you_ call it, then?"

"I was _trying_ to find my knives!"

Some of Sesshoumaru's righteous anger seemed to melt away, a bit of gold returning to red eyes. "You went still."

"Of course I did! _Someone_ who had been looking like he wanted to _eat_ me decided to grab my throat in his razor-sharp fangs and I wasn't about to cut my own throat open on them!"

"...Oh."

"That's right. 'Oh'. But even if it _was_ submission - which it _wasn't_ \- how dare you do this to me? The sex, I don't really care - though I would have liked my first to be something _other_ than a bout of mindless battle-lust - but where do you get off marking me like this?!" Sephiroth pulled back the collar of his haori to show the lingering wound. In another week it would be healed, but leave behind a scar to show anyone that he was taken. "Take it back! I am not property! Not anymore, and never again!"

Seeing the mark that he had made for the first time since it happened sent a wave of turbulent emotion surging through the daiyoukai, then the other man's words sank in and he frowned slightly. What was he talking about, 'property'? "Didn't... This Sesshoumaru is assuming that you went to see his healer?"

"Yumeko," Sephiroth confirmed, glaring. "Don't change the subject! I am my own man and I want this mark gone!"

"I... cannot do that." It wasn't a series of words that fell often from Sesshoumaru's lips and he found that he didn't care for them.

"What? Why not? You put it there, you take it off!"

"As I said, I cannot," Sesshoumaru repeated. "Didn't she tell you? The mark is permanent."

"Perma-? _WHAT?!_ I am _not_ something to be owned!"

Why did the other man keep coming back to that? Hadn't Yumeko explained what the mark _was?_ Sesshoumaru debated, then decided to tell him. It was becoming clear to him that while Sephiroth knew that he had been marked, he seemed to have no idea that the mark was anything other than a mark of possession.

"The mark..." he said at last, "is not a mark of ownership."

Sephiroth calmed slightly. He slid the rain-soaked silk back into place. "It isn't?" he asked. "But Yumeko said that it was to show everyone that I am yours. That is ownership."

"It is not a mark of ownership," Sesshoumaru repeated. A brief hesitation, then he continued, "but it _does_ mark you as mine."

"What? But you just said-" Sephiroth's aura spiked again.

"It is a mating mark. It marks you as mine, as my beta, just as I am _your_ alpha."

"It does _what?!_ "

Sephiroth forced back the words that wanted to rush out at the other man's words, as their meaning and implication slowly sank in. The fact that anyone who saw the mark would know that he and Sesshoumaru had been intimate didn't sit well with the private man. And what was that 'beta' and 'alpha' bit supposed to mean?

Sesshoumaru could tell that while the other man still wasn't happy about it - and why not? He was an amazing catch, if he said so himself - he had run out of steam for that fight. Later on, after he'd had time to think about it, that anger might return, but for now it was over. 

Or _would_ it return? One of the things that he'd admired about the other man was his adaptability, after all. He knew now that the mark was permanent; would he be able to accept it like he had everything else, or would it prove to be that 'one too many'?

He was surprised to find himself actually starting to look forward to their changed relationship once things calmed down. It certainly wouldn't be boring!

It was only then, as their argument fizzled and sputtered, that both men became aware that some time during their little altercation they seemed to have acquired an audience.

Gathered around them at random intervals for safety stood perhaps a dozen of Sesshoumaru's palace guards, all standing with their weapons trained on Sephiroth. They must have seen Sesshoumaru crash through the wall into the courtyard and rushed in to defend their lord as they had sworn to do. Dog demons all, the scent of wet dog hung heavy in the air, but even that couldn't conceal the scent of arousal and _that_ had the two silver-haired men finally taking in their own appearances with growing embarrassment and almost mortification.

They had been arguing in the pouring rain for some time. _More_ than long enough.

Silver-white hair was grey with water and slicked down, clinging to them in chilly strings. The mud Sesshoumaru had landed in had been entirely washed away. His mokomoko was a sad sight, the fur slicked down in places, standing in soggy spikes in others, completely soaked. Those weren't the things that made pale cheeks pink up in embarrassment, though.

What _did_ was the simple fact that fine white silk, when wet, was just about invisible as it clung to equally-wet skin. They might as well have been naked.

They stood there, staring at each other in mortification that was slowly giving way for twisted humor for a long moment before breaking at almost the exact same moment and rushing back inside to find a set of dry clothing and a warm fire, their argument temporarily abandoned with mutual consent.

**oOo**

A man walked through the remains of a certain temple, crimson eyes taking in the damage. Some of it he recognized as coming from Sesshoumaru's Dragon Strike, some from a yet unnamed attack from someone else. Someone who, the rumor had it, had managed to fight off Sesshoumaru all night with attacks that actually dispersed the lethal Dragon Strike.

Interesting.

And dangerous. Sesshoumaru was enough of a thorn in his side all by himself; he shuddered to think of the consequences should there be _two_ beings of such caliber coming after him.

Yes, it was a good thing that the daiyoukai and the new unknown stranger were apparently enemies.

It rather annoyed him, though, he thought as he left the temple and made his way down the path, then through the village and down the road in the direction they had told him earlier that the stranger had come from, that he hadn't heard even the tiniest rumor of this new silver-haired man's existence before then. It was as if he had just appeared out of nowhere. How had the man been able to avoid his attention before now? He always kept an eye out for strong demons to absorb into himself.

 _How_ had he missed _this_ one?

He hadn't been walking long - a few hours perhaps - when he caught the heavy scent of death coming from a little ways into the forest on one side of the path. Having a feeling that _this_ was what he was looking for - though what good a pile of corpses would be he wasn't yet sure - he plunged into the forest and made his way to the battle site.

And it _had_ been a battle; he could see that almost at once. The sheer number of dead demons was astonishing, and a clear warning. Especially when he sensed a jewel shard and tracked its presence to what was left of a lesser daiyoukai.

It was as he crouched to take the jewel shard from the dead demon's forehead that his foot landed on something that definitely did _not_ belong there. He grabbed it, then absently retrieved the shard as he looked over his new find.

It wasn't big, whatever it was, fitting almost perfectly into the palm of his hand, and was made of a shiny black substance he'd never seen before and small sections of silvery metal that seemed nothing more than decoration. There was a seam running down the two long, narrow sides and across one short one, the opposite short side ending in what looked like an odd hinge.

Was it a new kind of box? He found he quite liked the glossy black and silver. Maybe he could store his shards in it?

Naraku slowly opened the odd box, only to find - to his disappointment - that it apparently wasn't a box at all. Or at least not the kind you could put things in. But what _was_ it, then?

One side was covered in shallow scale-like bumps with odd characters apparently painted on them. The other-

The other almost made him drop his new box in surprise when it lit up as soon as the box was opened almost flat. He stared, then an evil grin spread across his face. Was this, perhaps, a smaller version of Kanna's mirror? This unknown man was more interesting that even he'd given him credit for if that was the case!

He watched the small surface intently, but for long moments it only showed him some strange crest so he was forced to acknowledge the fact that there must be some incantation needed to make it work. Now what could- The painted scales!

The crimson-eyed man cautiously pressed one of the symbols, growing more confident when the box beeped and more symbols appeared on the glowing surface. And he could recognize one of them! He looked down at the scales and pushed one with the same symbol, painted in green.

He almost dropped it again as a voice came from the side with the mirror.

"Dialing Hewley, Angeal," said a female voice. There was a series of discordant noises and the voice spoke again. "We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again."

Bolder now, Naraku pressed the symbol next to the first one he had pressed, then the green one again and waited.

"Dialing Rhapsodos, Genesis... We're sorry. The number you have dialed is currently out of range. Please try again later."

Slowly, Naraku made his way through the scales. The little mirror stubbornly refused to show him anything but that odd crest, but he wasn't getting discouraged. Magical devices were complex and he couldn't expect success right away.

Still pressing the scales - only two left, then he would start trying two-scale combinations - he wandered back out of the forest toward the path.

"...try again later."

He pushed the last scale, then the green one.

"Dialing Mad Scientist," the oddly toneless female said, then that now-familiar jangling noise. A click.

"Hello? What is it? Hurry up; I'm busy!"

Naraku stared. It hadn't done _that_ before! To his disappointment, though, the mirror still showed that crest. The voice was new, though.

"Hello? Who is- _Sephiroth?!_ Where are you, boy? Those incompetent Turks! Can't they even manage to drag a reactor pool? Bah! Where are you? I'll send a retrieval team out. Hello? Sephiroth? Are you there?"

Feeling more than a bit silly - and glad that no one was around to see him - Naraku spoke to the box. 

"I am Naraku," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on interplanetary cell-phone coverage in Feudal Japan: *giggle* Yeah, the 'WTF cell phone?' thing. A lot of people asked how that works, and why Hojo was reachable when no one else was, so I thought I'd explain what's going on as I see it. First off: Angeal and Genesis. At the point in the timeline when Seph goes nuts in Nibelheim, Angeal has already been dead for a while. With Genesis, after Seph turned him down in his first trip to the reactor in Crisis Core, you don't see him again in Nibelheim so I'm guessing that he went away to come up with another approach. Now with Hojo, _he's_ still in Nibelheim. He's got two brand-new science experiments locked up in the basement of the Shinra Mansion. Naraku, with plain dumb luck, dialed Hojo's number just when he got to the area where Seph first came through (pseudo-bottom of the reactor). Now, think of the bottom of the reactor like a tunnel between Gaia and Japan, and their cell phones being like cans on a string (the string being its calling/receiving range). From that spot, Hojo, down in the Mansion, _is_ in range (probably getting crummy reception, but in range just the same) as long as Naraku stays in that reactor-pool-sized spot. There's a little more on this in the next chappie, so I'm going to stop there, but if you still have questions, feel free to ask! ^-^


	23. Chapter 23

Sesshoumaru didn't know what he should do. It was not a situation he was used to - as lord of the Western Lands he was more than used to the need to make decisions and his confidence in himself and his ability to do so had always been unshakeable - and he was finding that he didn't care for the situation in the least. What should he do?

Well, that wasn't exactly true, was it? He knew what he had to do - talk to Sephiroth - but what he didn't know was if he should go at once, wait until a little time had passed and _then_ go, or if he should wait until _Sephiroth_ came to _him._

It had surprised him to learn that Sephiroth hadn't known what the mark was, that for the most part he _still_ didn't understand the entirety of it. The other man had adapted so well to life at the palace that Sesshoumaru sometimes found himself forgetting that the man wasn't actually from there, that no matter the man's strength and skill, he _wasn't_ actually a demon and didn't understand - or even know about - some of the things that even Sesshoumaru took for granted.

Like mating.

Now that he had calmed down somewhat, the reality of their situation was finally starting to sink in, becoming real in his mind. He and Sephiroth were mated. He, Sesshoumaru, had mated them and made himself alpha - not that there was any doubt _before_ \- and as such it was his duty to take care of his beta. It was his duty to explain what had happened and what it meant and he could admit - if only to himself - that he was _not_ looking forward to telling Sephiroth exactly what it meant to be a beta. He knew how _he_ would react to someone making _him_ such, and from what he had picked up, Sephiroth had held a similar position.

Even so, it had to be done. He was quickly growing tired of the prickly silences between them, the angry fighting - though he couldn't help but relish their sparring; it had been far too long since he had faced such a challenging opponent - and wanted it to end. The sooner, the better.

Decided, Sesshoumaru stood. He straightened, pulling on his mask of unshakeable lord, and strode out of his quarters in search of Sephiroth.

**oOo**

Sephiroth set the useless Ultima Materia back down with the others with a small, glassy click, and then turned to stare blankly into the crackling flames in the fireplace, soaking up the comforting warmth.

He'd tried his Materia again, but there was still no sign of life in them, not even the tiniest growth in them that would indicate that their powers might return in time. Oddly enough, though, when he tried to use them, to wake their sleeping power, his arms hurt. It wasn't a spiking pain, more of the dull ache of exertion, but why would the Materia hurt him at all? He'd used it almost all of his life and he'd never felt anything like that. A headache on those few occasions that he'd overdrawn himself, yes, but nothing else. Why now? What was different?

All right, so he was in a different world, apparently, but he was still himself and the Materia, except for being dead, were also the same ones he'd worn in his bracelets and equipment for years.

Wait.

That was it, wasn't it? His bracelets, his equipment; wherever he ached when he tried to tap into one of the Materia was directly under the spot that it had originally been equipped.

So what did that mean to him?

Not much, not yet, but it was one small piece of the puzzle and something he'd have to think more on later.

Speaking of things he needed to think about, he could sense Sesshoumaru approaching, hear the near-silent footsteps, smell his unique scent. Well, that answered the question of whether or not he should go and find the man himself or wait until the other man decided to seek him out, didn't it?

Good. They had to talk and he always had favored quickly ripping off a bandage instead of slowly pulling it off and prolonging things unnecessarily. He was getting tired of the awkward silence between them and hoped that if they talked that they could go back to that easy camaraderie that they had enjoyed before.

From what he could understand, the fact that Sesshoumaru had bit him when they had... when they had copulated in the forest had somehow joined them together as mates as far as the demon world was concerned. Mates. That was what one called a breeding pair of animals, wasn't it? But neither he nor Sesshoumaru was female, so was being mated even possible for them? Or was it more like a marriage, a union of two people held together by words and nothing more? The demon had said the mark was permanent, though.

Well, the mark might scar and last, but what about the 'mating' bit? Did that last as well? Why? Was it simply because they had no concept of divorce or was it something else?

No matter what it was, he could admit that he wouldn't really _mind_ being with Sesshoumaru. The man had a similar outlook on things and they seemed to get along well enough; despite the recent argument, there was barely any of the uncertain edginess that had characterized his friendship with Genesis and Angeal, nor the distance he'd kept with Zack despite the boy's best efforts. Not to say he hadn't _tried;_ but with Genesis and Angeal he'd been, perhaps, just too fresh from Hojo's clutches to trust them enough, and Zack's efforts had simply come too soon after the disastrous end of those first friendships. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been able to trust them more, to be a better friend to them, would things have turned out differently? No matter; what was done was done. They were all gone and he was, as always, left behind, only this time there was someone there with him, someone enough like him to understand, but different enough that they wouldn't annoy each other unbearably with their similarity.

Sesshoumaru. His mate, apparently. To think he'd gotten married - for it _was_ like a marriage, wasn't it? - without even knowing it! Maybe it was a good thing, though. What he could remember of their first encounter had been enjoyable enough, and they did get along well enough....

It was certainly better than the speculation on a breeding program for him that he'd caught a glimpse of the last time he'd been ordered down to Hojo's lab for maintenance, anyway. He had no desire to sire more children for Hojo to ruin as he'd done him. The mere thought of any progeny of his in that man's hands and under his merciless instruments made him want to vomit.

It was nice to have something in his life that made him feel good instead of bad like Hojo's little 'surprises' tended to. It was suddenly a lot clearer why Hojo had been so against him having any sort of physical relationship with anyone. He'd revile it on principle, wouldn't he? 

But if he and Sesshoumaru were, as the other man claimed, mates... there would be more of that sort of pleasure in the future. And if being on the receiving end felt _that_ good, he could only imagine what it would feel like when he returned the favor!

The image of Sesshoumaru beneath him, flushed and writhing as he had been, golden eyes half-lidded with pleasure, his name on those lips as they both reached _that point..._

He shook his head to clear it, a faint blush gracing pale cheekbones.

Yes, it was definitely something he would have to look forward to!

And maybe he wouldn't even have to wait that long he thought, looking over as the door slid open and Sesshoumaru stepped in, closing it behind him.

**oOo**

In a hidden lab far beneath the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim, Hojo snapped his phone shut, a thousand previously undreamed-of thoughts running through his head. While he would typically be annoyed at being pulled from the enjoyment of his experiments and important scientific research - one of his new playthings, Specimen C, was still strapped down on the table under the bright lights - he now found himself to be anything _but._

He didn't know how Sephiroth had lost possession of his own phone - and hadn't thought to ask that Naraku - but just then he couldn't really bring himself to care. That boy had been becoming increasingly independent since he had been introduced to SOLDIER and sent to Wutai; lately he'd even outright refused to undergo some of the tests Hojo wanted to do on him without a direct order straight from President Shinra, though he hid it subtly in a reminder that as SOLDIER-General he could not afford to be incapacitated for any length of time. Bah! As if his position as leader of a bunch of muscle-bound science projects was more important than his research! Ridiculous!

_Perhaps,_ he thought, turning his gaze back to gauge C's response to the J-cells he'd injected just before his phone rang, _it was time to replace his Sephiroth with a new and improved - and obedient! - model._

Now if he could just get Sephiroth back, perhaps a thorough analysis might be able to pinpoint where he'd gone wrong the first time around.

Which brought him right back to his unexpected caller.

Naraku, as the stranger had called himself, was apparently some sort of technological idiot who had found Sephiroth's phone entirely by accident, used it with more dumb luck than Hojo could understand, and seemed to think it worked by magic. It was odd, because he spoke with a great deal of persuasive intelligence otherwise; it was as if he was blissfully unaware of anything from the discovery of electricity onward and the people around him were equally unaware.

It had occurred to him then, as he answered Naraku's questions about Sephiroth - stupid questions like how strong he was, what he looked like, and if he had any weaknesses; things that anyone and everyone on Gaia should know by heart after Shinra's extensive PR campaigns - that he managed to put the pieces together and come up with an unbelievably unexpected truth.

The use of Mako energy - of _any_ electricity - was unknown there. _Shinra_ was unknown there. _Sephiroth_ was unknown there. Super humans _did_ exist, going by the tag of 'demons', so-called 'magic' worked, and the land was green and full of life.

Naraku, he had no choice but to conclude despite his previous categorical scientific denial of its existence, was an Ancient calling from the Promised Land. It would certainly explain his otherwise inexplicably naive intelligence.

Once he had come to that conclusion, all his focus was turned to his unlikely caller, pulling out all the information he could from the man. While it wasn't much as far as Sephiroth was concerned - Naraku basically only knew that he _did_ exist - what he learned of that land only reinforced his belief that it _was_ the mythical Promised Land.

How unscientific.

And wonderful. He could only imagine the new funding he would get for his experiments once he delivered the Promised Land to Shinra on a platter.

They also found - and a bit more perplexing - that the phone only worked within a certain area roughly sixty feet in diameter on Naraku's side. If the man wandered out of that circle, their connection turned to static and then broke.

That must be it, then; the place where the two worlds were closest. That would be where Shinra would begin its invasion. Now he only had to figure out where that spot correlated to on Gaia and he could go to Shinra with the find. He could practically see his new expense accounts, and surely there would be interesting test subjects in the Promised Land. This 'Naraku', for instance....

It was only after they had ended the call and he was locking Specimen C back into his Mako tube that he realized that he already knew where the weak spot was. It even explained how the Turks had managed to unsuccessfully drag the reactor pool for Sephiroth's body.

The bottom of the reactor pool in the Mt. Nibel reactor was exactly sixty feet in diameter.


	24. Chapter 24

One snowy brow rose slightly in surprise as Sesshoumaru slid the door closed behind him, the scent of fledgling arousal as unmistakable as it was unexpected. He'd anticipated more talking, explaining, and finally arguing as he tried to get Sephiroth to understand his new place as mate of a Lord, but apparently the other man had somehow already gotten that information, internalized it, and come to accept it, and all since their disagreement in the courtyard only hours before.

It filled him with male pride that his mate was proving to be so resourceful, and somewhat relieved that there would be no repeat of their last unfortunately public argument. He'd known Sephiroth was capable - if he _wasn't_ , the daiyoukai would never have let him assist with the daily paperwork battle - but he hadn't realized it went as far as such a speedy acquisition of information. Perhaps he should consider having the man oversee his information networks. If they could acquire even a fraction of that efficiency-!

All of which was beside the point and could be discussed at a later point. What _was_ important was that the awkward explanations that he had previously expected to have to give were apparently unnecessary and that the evening might just turn out to be a lot more pleasurable than he had anticipated.

Good. It was about time that something went right; since the other man had come into his life thanks to the incompetent monks' attempt to kidnap _him_ , it seemed that everything he'd thought he'd known was wrong, his view of things turned end-over-end more times than he cared to think. It was good that things were going back to how they should be; however he, Sesshoumaru, _said_ they should be.

On silent footsteps he walked across the floor to where his beta sat near the crackling fire, blood rushing down to pool in his loins as he got closer and closer to the source of the aroused scent, as he took in the other man's quickened breathing, his flushed face and dilated pupils, the way the firelight danced across pale skin and hair.

Yes, Sephiroth was _his_ , his beta, and his mouth watered at the thought of proving that claim once more, of feeling that moist heat wrapped tightly around him as the man writhed below him in submission. The image was a siren's call and one he had no intention of ignoring.

His hand already reaching for the knot in his obi, he spoke, eyes starting to bleed red in almost painfully aroused anticipation.

"Strip and turn over," he said, voice low, almost a growl.

"What?"

**oOo**

Sephiroth couldn't help the feeling of anticipation that flooded him when his self-styled mate came in and closed the door behind him, then as Sesshoumaru came towards him and he caught the heavy scent of the other man's arousal.

The scent, in itself, was nothing he'd never caught before; as Shinra's prized SOLDIER, he'd had to wade through oceans of it from male and female alike every time the President decided to make a show of him. Even without the pointless parades, though, even the other SOLDIERs or Shinra workers were not immune. It was one reason he usually took the stairs if there was anyone else in the elevator; in a small, confined space the scent caused him... problems. At least his long coat and tight leather pants were usually enough to conceal it.

It wasn't the aroused scent itself that made his heart beat faster, his breathing grow shallow, and his palms grow damp with nervous anticipation. It was the fact that it was Sesshoumaru, and that the demon who called himself his mate wanted him, Sephiroth, and not the two-dimensional hollow image of him that the PR department so delighted in peddling. Sesshoumaru wanted Sephiroth, wanted who he was with no illusions, no spin, no lies. Wanted the man, not only the General.

Sesshoumaru wanted him, Sephiroth, as mate, lover, and equal.

It was something that Sephiroth, slave to Hojo and Shinra in everything but name, had rarely allowed himself to dream. He'd learned long ago that dreams were only as real and reachable as the mist that made them, no matter what Angeal used to say, and so he'd never let himself slip that far into them, into wanting some sort of lasting intimate relationship. He'd never dared to dream he might one day have that.

Not that that fact stopped him from responding as much as he could on those rare occasions when Genesis used to haul him for a quick kiss-and-grope session in a dark corner or behind a planter, their schedules clashing too much for them to ever get any further. No one else had ever dared actually approach him so that remained the sum of his experience with intimacy.

Until that day in the forest, and Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru, who was coming closer with an almost predatory look that sparked new levels of desire in the former SOLDIER-General.

In his mind's eye he could already see the daiyoukai spread open beneath him, naked skin flushed with arousal, his sex standing hot and heavy over the smooth skin of his stomach, his eyes glazed with pleasure, gasping and whining for more as Sephiroth buried himself in him again and again... as he showed him the same heights of pleasure that he had been shown.

His own arousal throbbing anew at the thought, anticipation an almost tangible feeling as it coiled through his veins, he-

"Strip and turn over," Sesshoumaru said, almost growled, even as his hand reached for the elaborate knot of his sash - no, _obi._

"What?"

It took Sephiroth a moment to realize that he'd said it aloud, but he didn't care; the other man's words like a bucket of ice water to the face. What was the demon talking about...? Granted, as a man he didn't exactly expect to be romanced, but he _did_ expect a bit more than-

"Strip," Sesshoumaru repeated, "and turn over."

The way the words were said, that low rumbling voice, was new but the words themselves were not. Sephiroth had heard them so often in his youth that he had wondered more than once why they bothered to give him clothes at all.

The memory of his treatment at Hojo's hands was enough to kill any sense of arousal he had previously enjoyed and he felt his sex almost wilt in response. He was left feeling hollow and adrift for only a moment before a defensive anger set in.

Still, he had misunderstood before.

"What are you talking about?" he asked at last.

A faint frown crinkled the pale skin between snowy brows then a faint, impatient-sounding sigh. "Strip and turn over," he said yet again, his voice almost normal this time. "Or do you expect me to take you through your clothing?"

Sephiroth had to admit that the thought of being physically intimate, joined, through their clothing somehow _was_ a bit ludicrous. Still, that imperious tone didn't exactly help the mood, and besides... "I thought... I would like to give you pleasure. Like you did for me."

The daiyoukai stiffened visibly, eyes narrowing. "What?" he asked flatly.

The former General might never have had a partner before, but once he'd decided on something, intimate or not, he stood firm. "I want to be on top this time. I want to-"

"Impossible." Cold. Final. Absolute. "Now strip."

"What? Why not? You did it to me!"

"Because I am alpha and you are my beta. Your duty is to obey. Now strip and turn over!"

Sephiroth might not have understood exactly what the daiyoukai meant by 'alpha' and 'beta' but he certainly know a declaration of ownership when he heard one and that, combined with the other man's demand, told him all that he needed to know.

It also reminded him of what happened every time he'd opened himself up even a little and dared to want something more, dared to let someone get close. Angeal, Genesis, and now Sesshoumaru. One more shallow betrayal to add to the tally.

And to think that he'd actually believed that the demon looked at him and saw _Sephiroth_. That he'd believed the man when he'd told him that the mark on his shoulder _wasn't_ a mark of ownership.

Now he knew that Sesshoumaru looked and saw only a body, a whore, something to use at his convenience. So that was what being mates really meant?

Sephiroth stared up at the daiyoukai standing before him and wanted to vomit.


	25. Chapter 25

Sesshoumaru didn't know what to think. One moment everything was fine, great in fact; Sephiroth, his mate, his beta, was apparently just as eager to rut as he was, to judge from the physical signs and the overwhelming scent of arousal that was wafting off him, driving his demon, his feral side, mad with lust. The next....

The next, all of that was gone almost instantly, only the last fading traces of arousal-scent proving that they had been there at all, the other man staring at him with a look that was unreadable even for one used to not only seeing such looks but using them himself. Even his eyes, those odd pools of glowing blue-green, went blank, but not before the daiyoukai caught a glimpse of some sort of deep emotion.

It was enough to leave his own arousal and anticipation nothing but a memory, an almost-chill rushing through him.

What was that? For the first time, Sesshoumaru cursed the fact that he wasn't a social creature. Surely if he had been, he would be able to name the emotion he'd seen, there then gone again almost instantly. It wasn't fear or anger, the two emotions he could identify in any of their incarnations. He was also pretty certain it hadn't been joy or lust either; the man's body language - only slightly less indecipherable to the demon lord than the emotions were - and scent denying both.

But the lust _had_ been there, shining through those eyes, obvious enough that even Jaken could have seen and understood the physical responses.

He mentally shook his head to rid it of the disturbing thought of Jaken and his Sephiroth together. Sephiroth was _his! His_ mate and no one else's!

It had been going so well, too. What had happened? Something had changed. What was it?

He'd come into the room to find Sephiroth waiting, the air almost cloying with the hot, inviting scent of a man waiting to pleasure his mate. He _knew_ that; his nose didn't lie. Sephiroth _had_ been ready and willing, the heat in blue-green eyes matching that in reddened gold. His mate had been ready for him, for them, was looking forward to it as much as he was. He'd been relieved that Sephiroth had somehow found out his role in their relationship and accepted it so that he didn't have to-

Wait.

What if he had been wrong about that? The other man's last questions hinted at it. Had he, Sesshoumaru, been wrong about the man? Again?

Had Sephiroth been waiting for the daiyoukai so that he could push _Sesshoumaru_ into the beta's position? Or at least try to, Sesshoumaru's mark clearly displaying his status as alpha to anyone who saw it. Even if it had not, he had no desire to play the submissive role; it was against his very nature. How could Sephiroth-

Sephiroth.

Sephiroth, who may not have held any title he recognized but that had apparently been similar enough to his for him to be able to help and advise Sesshoumaru as he saw to his lordly duties.

Sephiroth, who was all but his equal in strength and skill, who was similar enough in outlook that he might as well have been a copy of the daiyoukai himself.

Sephiroth, who had been marked by him by as much dumb luck as anything else. Who had seen the mark as one of possession, of ownership, until first Sesshoumaru had countered that belief in their argument only hours before, until Sephiroth had found out that it wasn't possession, it just made him mate and beta to-

Wait.

That _was_ a kind of ownership, at least as the human might see it, wasn't it? If he had only had Sesshoumaru's words to go by, if he _hadn't_ learned any more, if he'd known only that it marked them as mates... But he'd told him that it showed that he was beta to Sesshoumaru's alpha! How could he not-

Humans didn't run in packs, did they?

Humans didn't run in packs and so they would have no natural sense of alpha and beta positions. How could he have forgotten that? Then again, Sephiroth was so like a demon at times that he forgot that he wasn't.

So if Sephiroth had pushed the question of alpha and beta positions aside to look into at a later point, what did that leave? The fact that they were mated, and in and of itself, that term wouldn't tell him what was expected of him. Had he thought it gave them equal rights?

Ridiculous.

_'...I want to be on top this time-'_  
'Impossible...'  
'What? Why? You did it to me!'  
'...Your duty is to obey...' 

That was it, wasn't it? That was it and he'd been a monumental idiot. He should have explained things, but he'd been so sure. And without meaning to, he'd trampled all over Sephiroth's sore point: ownership.

But why had the other man just frozen, then? Why hadn't be become angry like he had before? Why wasn't his aura spiking, his glare impaling, his blows flying? Why wasn't he throwing Sesshoumaru's words back into his face and raging at him for the seeming-

-betrayal.

That was the flash of emotion he'd seen but couldn't name, wasn't it? Betrayal, cold and bitter.

Why was he being so calm, so blank? Sesshoumaru was finding out just what it felt like to be treated to one of his own icy stares. The fact that from Sephiroth's point of view he'd lied to his mate, had betrayed his trust, made him feel almost nauseous. Why? And what could he do to fix it?

Assuming his conclusions this time were accurate. Well, there was one way to find out. Sesshoumaru drew breath to speak but Sephiroth beat him to it.

"You said that it didn't mean ownership," he said, tone blank, one hand rising to finger the wound that had started it all.

Well, that answered _that_ question, didn't it? The mere thought of having - however unintentionally - betrayed his mate was enough to kill the last lingering traces of his arousal, his demon, feeling Sephiroth slipping away from them with every breath, was all but screaming at him to fix it, to make it better, to make his mate happy with him again.

Now if it would only tell him how to _do_ that....

"I..."

**oOo**

Sephiroth waited. Outwardly he wore his best 'Shinra Board-Room' face even as he pushed everything else down deep and closed the lid on it, wrapping the mental box in heavy chains and locks. None of that roiling mess of emotion would do him any good just then and he needed a clear head.

He didn't know what he was hoping for, what Sesshoumaru could possibly say that would even begin to fix the problem hanging sharp-edged and raw between them, didn't know if he could allow himself to believe him even if he somehow _did_ manage to find the right words.

This was the third time he'd been betrayed by someone he'd considered a friend, though it _was_ the first time he'd been married to one. Maybe it was the universe's perverse way of reminding him that no matter what he might want he was and always would be different, apart, and alone. This was the third time he'd been betrayed and if the first two times had taught him anything it was that he didn't care for being left behind.

If this was it, if it was over almost before it had started like he felt was happening, he wouldn't wait, wouldn't be the one left behind. If this was it, he would leave _first._

He would remember - how could he not? Sesshoumaru was his first, and the first he'd found himself having all these strange _feelings_ for - but he _would_ leave.

Whatever he was listening for as Sesshoumaru fumbled his way through an explanation about alphas and betas and their individual roles in a mating with uncharacteristic awkwardness, he didn't hear it. He made the right 'listening' sounds at the right moments but as time wore on his thoughts turned more and more to what he was going to do now.

Staying was out of the question. If it was over between he and Sesshoumaru, it would _be_ over. He would not stay in the other man's palace, eat his food, work with him, spar with him, or try to somehow make his changed feelings go back to being simple companionship. He would make a clean break, leave, and try to put the whole messy and emotional thing behind him.

Perhaps he could try to find that other group - Inuyasha's group. He hadn't been around them for very long but they seemed to be good people and such a mismatched group _had_ to have some sort of common goal. He could use that; something to focus on, to take his attention from other things.

Then again, maybe he should just strike out on his own and find something - or _several_ somethings - to slaughter. A group of demons like those who had attacked him that first night would be ideal.

Sesshoumaru finished his explanation and looked at his silently.

Sephiroth simply stared back, face impassive, mind made up, ignoring the little voice inside that wanted to do everything and anything to make it better.

Some things could only be bandaged so many times before an amputation became the only logical answer.

Sesshoumaru looked away first. "I'll leave you alone to think about it," he said quietly, almost uncomfortably, moving back to the door.

Sephiroth said nothing. He watched him leave, saw the door slide gently closed. He waited until the sense of _'Sesshoumaru'_ was far enough, until it had settled where the daiyoukai's personal quarters were, then he stood.

He banked the fire, then went over to the beautifully-carved wooden chest that held his few belongings. Stripping out of the silk clothing he'd become used to during his stay, he slithered back into his familiar leathers. His former uniform was tight and constricting after the freedom of the loose silk, but he would not be called a thief.

Done, he took a last look around the room that had been his then slipped quietly out the door. He walked down darkened hallways he'd long since memorized, then out into the courtyard with the hot springs. One good jump saw him on the roof and from there he took to the sky, rising so fast that not even the most alert sentry would have seen more than a flicker in the dark, starlit night.

He touched down on the other side of the village at the foot of the palace's hill, then started walking.

He hoped that there were bandits. Bandits, or a group of demons itching to attack a lone wanderer. He wanted to bury himself in a sea of red and soak away the turmoil inside with the sound of steel through flesh and the hot crimson spray of life blood.

As the miles passed underfoot and the night grew old without even a hint of a possible attack, he began to doubt that he would be so lucky as to have them come to him.

It was almost dawn, the sky just bright enough to cancel out the starlight but not yet bright enough to be of any benefit when he spotted the man standing in the middle of the road. His hair was long and wavy and he was wrapped in a pale fur that looked almost ghostly in the uncertain light.

"Greetings, Sephiroth," the man said, voice low and almost hypnotic. "I have been waiting for you. I am Naraku."


	26. Chapter 26

Sephiroth gazed cooly at the man on the road and tried to pull the momory of where he had heard that name before from his blood-soaked thoughts. The name was vaguely familiar so he must have heard it before, but where?

A brief flash of memory.

The head of Sesshoumaru's information networks just finishing up a report, then the daiyoukai speaking.

_"...and what of Naraku?"_  
_"Nothing, my Lord. He seems to be in hiding once more."_  
_"He is planning something. Find out what."_  
_"Yes, my Lord."_

Apparently what he was planning involved waiting for Sephiroth despite the fact that he could have no way of knowing when - or _if_ \- the former SOLDIER-General would leave Sesshoumaru's palace. For that matter, how had he known that that was where he was? Well, it hadn't exactly been kept secret, either, had it? Even so, he couldn't have known when Sephiroth was leaving. Or could he? His timing was quite good for coincidence. A bit _too_ good? Did he have some way of knowing what went on in Sesshoumaru's palace?

Wary now, Sephiroth took another look at the man. Face a smooth mask, white fur wrapped loosely around him, it was only the cunning gleam in those red eyes that betrayed the outward display of innocence, of well-meaning openness. It was a gleam he was more than used to seeing in the Shinra board room, the one that said that no deed was too foul in the quest for more power, more influence, more _everything._

That, combined with the fact that _Sesshoumaru_ felt the need to keep tabs on the man, slammed his guard firmly into place and slid this Naraku character neatly into the 'dangerous' category.

Naraku, who was apparently waiting for an answer to his previous statement.

"You were waiting for me?" he asked, voice level, betraying no hint of his recently-reached conclusions. "Why?"

Naraku smiled slightly. If not for the cold in his eyes it might have been believable, but Sephiroth had been raised by barracudas and wasn't fooled. "I've heard rumors about your coming here and simply wanted to meet you," he said. "It isn't every day that a warrior appears out of nowhere who is capable of battling Lord Sesshoumaru to a standstill, and even fewer who survive the experience."

Base flattery had never done anything but confuse the General, and he brushed it aside now as well. "Is that so?"

"It is, and I must say that you are every bit as impressive as I had hoped. Magnificent, in fact. Here you stand, a mortal with no demonic aura at all, and yet you're capable of holding your own against the daiyoukai Sesshoumaru." Red eyes gleamed with something that was a cross between anticipation, bloodlust, and the craving for power in any form. "Join me and together we will take down all who dare to oppose us," he said, tone the epitome of logical persuasiveness, filled with the certainty that a warrior as strong as Sephiroth would never even _dream_ of refusing such an offer. "We will even start with your persistent foe, Sesshoumaru. You failed to kill him the first time but with my help you won't fail again."

Sephiroth waited a moment longer but that seemed to be the end of Naraku's recruitment pitch. He could have used a PR team; even the interns could come up with a better-sounding offer. The offer itself held no interest for him; hadn't he already decided to leave Shinra before he'd been ordered to Nibelheim? His former position had been similar enough to what Naraku was offering that the new offer held no appeal. 

Then there was the man's offer to help him kill Sesshoumaru. Much as he might want to rip things to bloody shreds just then because of the daiyoukai's arrogance in thinking that he could _own_ Sephiroth, he didn't want to kill him. Actually, he barely restrained himself from attacking Naraku simply for having made the offer, something inside screaming at him to defend the daiyoukai, to protect him, to go back to him and do anything to make things right between them.

He ignored the last bit and put the rest aside to think about later. Why was he _having_ those thoughts? He'd had similar back at the palace, too, when Sesshoumaru was working on shoving his foot down his own throat. What did they mean? Was it because of the mark on his shoulder? He wished it would stop. He didn't want to feel anything for the daiyoukai. Not if he wasn't seen as Sephiroth but just some... _beta._

He shook off that thought and remembered that he hadn't yet answered Naraku's offer. "Is that all?" he asked.

Naraku frowned. "Is that all? I'm offering a joint rulership over an empire! Before our might, armies will crumble, lords will be thrown down, territories will fall at our feet! We would rule-"

Different planet, same old drivel.

"No, thank you," Sephiroth said.

Naraku stared. "...What?"

"No, thank you," Sephiroth repeated. "I'm not interested."

That pleasant, friendly face twisted into a mask of pure fury. "No? Foolish man. Here I offered you a place at my side and you _turn it down?_ Do you _know_ who you're talking to?"

"A 'Naraku', apparently," came the almost-bored reply.

Fury melted into pure rage, then slid into an anticipatory calm with surprising speed.

"Well then, Sephiroth. If you won't join me, I have no other choice," the crimson-eyed man said. Dozens of tentacles, some sinuous and green, others jagged and segmented, armored like an insect's legs in grey and red, burst from the man's back. They hung in the air for a long moment before speeding at the former SOLDIER-General with startling speed. "I will have your power when I absorb you into my body. You should feel honored. I usually only do this to full demons."

Sephiroth called the Masamune then sliced the first wave of tentacles to bits, the long blade spraying gore in wide arcs even as pieces of tentacles fell to litter the ground around him in twitching heaps. Three more waves of tentacles were sliced to bits, and he started to wonder just how many this Naraku _had_. He didn't seem distressed at all as Sephiroth sliced them up, actually seemed to be almost... pleased?

Instincts screaming danger, Sephiroth started to back away so that he could try to locate and assess the threat-

Too late.

All the bits of hacked-up tentacles that were lying all around him suddenly rose, coming at him from all sides so quickly that even with his enhanced speed there was no escape, and he couldn't swing the Masamune quickly enough. The bits of tentacles reached him, joined back together, and wrapped all around him, holding him from the shoulders down so tightly that he couldn't move no matter how he tried.

That fact was enough to trigger a rare panic attack as the memory of being strapped down to far too many metal tables and experimented on flooded through him. His breathing grew shallow, both because of the panic and the ever-tightening constriction.

"Now," Naraku said, "you will become part of me whether you want to or not. Give me your power!"

The tentacles surged up, completely covering the man within their grasp, then began to pulse as they started drawing out his power.


	27. Chapter 27

Sesshoumaru had just settled into bed for the night, relaxing into the comfort of his futon when he felt Sephiroth move. He allowed himself to sink into the heavy lassitude that came before sleep set in, his limbs feeling like leaden weights though his mind remained clear. He sensed his mate move unhurriedly down the hallways and though his aura was as cold and blank as his expressions had been, he wasn't worried since Sephiroth seemed to be heading for the common springs instead of the front door.

Hopefully, a nice, hot soak would help him as he considered Sesshoumaru's awkward explanation. Surely once he gave it some thought he would see that it was no shame to be beta to one such as him! He was Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, and an incredible catch! He hoped that the other man would realize it soon, would realize just how lucky he was. Then Sesshoumaru could do as his demon was demanding and make his mate happy, give him pleasure, make him come back-

Golden eyes snapped open, the bonds of sleep falling away abruptly under the shock as he sat up with a start.

Come _back?_

He reached out his senses towards the springs where Sephiroth had been headed, but the man wasn't there. Reaching further, he detected him heading away from the palace with almost demonic speed, slipping out of range just before the village below the palace. Out of range of normal senses, anyway. He could still tell roughly in which direction Sephiroth was headed, was picking up a hint of what he could only call bloodlust. Was that the way a mating worked? And to think that he'd thought all those tales of 'mating bonds' and being able to 'sense their mate' had been mere fancy and exaggeration!

Sephiroth was no longer in the palace or on the palace grounds. He had left them. Left _Sesshoumaru._

Why? Even if his explanation had been awkward and inexperienced - should he have asked Yumeko to explain it instead? - he had thought that he'd done well enough. What more did Sephiroth want from him?

_'...I want to be on top... Why not? You did it to me!...'_

The memory of the other man's words provoked the same recoil as always. As if he, Sesshoumaru, would willingly beta for anyone, mate or not! He was one of the four Lords and as such he would never-

Wait.

Sephiroth hadn't actually said that he wanted that from Sesshoumaru, had he? Technically, he hadn't even known what alpha and beta _were_ when he had made that request.

So what _had_ he been asking for? If he wasn't asking for the demon lord to surrender his position as alpha, what did he want?

He thought it over as he pushed his sleep-heavy limbs into moving, into getting him up, to his clothing, and dressed. He tried looking at it from a human's - from _Sephiroth's_ \- perspective as he worked the ties that bound his armor in place. He was tying the elaborate knot in his obi when the answer came to him, leaving the daiyoukai almost dumbstruck.

Sephiroth hadn't known anything about alpha and beta. All he'd known was that they were mated, joined by deeper bonds than mortal marriage, and - it was so obvious now that Sesshoumaru cringed internally at how oblivious he had been - since they were practically evenly matched when it came to everything else, had - logically enough - assumed that that fact would extend to their mating.

Sephiroth hadn't requested Sesshoumaru's submission because he wanted to be alpha. He'd done it because he had expected them to be _equals._

Sesshoumaru, once his instinctive _I'm alpha!_ protest had passed, was surprised to find such an impossible thing rather appealing. What would it be like to have such a strong mate? Someone who could hold his own, even support _him_ should he need it? He had never heard of such a thing, but now as he considered it there seemed to be more advantages than not. How could having a strong mate be a liability? It might even help, since he wouldn't have to split his attention as much between his duties and seeing to his mate's continued protection.

Of course it also meant that he would have to agree, at least occasionally, to Sephiroth's request to be dominant, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. _Sephiroth_ seemed to have enjoyed it, anyway. And even if he didn't come to enjoy it, surely he could endure it. For Sephiroth. For his mate.

Decision made, Sesshoumaru slipped from his quarters and made his way outside. Now that a decision had been made, no matter that it was a decision he would never have made in _any_ other circumstances, he felt the weight of his confusion and anger at the situation lifted from him. For better or worse, Sephiroth was his mate and if it was equality he wanted, then Sesshoumaru would oblige. Now all he had to do was catch up to the wayward man and let him know.

Outside, Sesshoumaru formed his demonic cloud under him and rose up into the air. From his bond with Sephiroth he could sense a vague tug in one direction along with enough frustrated bloodlust to make his own eyes start to bleed red. He turned in the direction of the tug and flew.

The night wore on. Sephiroth, apparently, could cover a lot of ground when he was sufficiently motivated. Luckily so could Sesshoumaru, and he was steadily gaining ground on him. He could have gone faster but he thought that giving the man a bit more time to cool down would be a good idea. That and the fact that he still had to figure out what he was going to say that _wouldn't_ end up with Sephiroth either angry, leaving again, or both.

It was nearing dawn, the stars almost invisible even to _his_ eyes, when he sensed a presence ahead that had him redoubling his speed even as he felt a surprising wariness come to life in Sephiroth, pushing aside the fire of his anger and bloodlust. What had Naraku done to inspire that caution? Even _he_ had been deceived by the half-demon's submissive pandering the first time they had met.

He was only minutes away and closing fast when a flash of mindless panic accompanied by a rush of images that passed too quickly to understand surged into him through their bond, followed quickly by a hard, draining agony he'd experienced for himself once before. The unexpected shock and pain was enough to shatter his concentration and send him plummeting to the ground as his demonic cloud dispersed.

Luckily, he had been nearing the ground as he prepared to touch down so he didn't have _too_ far to fall.

The fact that his rather ungraceful landing was cushioned at least in part as he flattened Inuyasha to the ground was an added bonus he would appreciate when he managed to push Sephiroth's pain and panic aside far enough so that he could function.

**oOo**

Inuyasha, lying flattened in the dirt of the path they were on, lifted his face from the ground and glared at Kagome. "Oi, wench! What was that for?!" he demanded.

"It wasn't me!" she protested. "It was Sesshoumaru!"

"Oh yeah, like I'm going to believe that," Inuyasha scoffed. "If that bastard could use this damn rosary, I _think_ he'd have done it in one of our fights already!"

"I mean it was _Sesshoumaru_. He just fell out of the sky and is lying on your back, you jerk!"

"Like he'd ever do something so - _Sesshoumaru?!_ "

Sesshoumaru glared at the hanyou but it was a weak imitation of its typical glacial glory. He seemed to be distracted by something, but what could-

"Get out of the dirt, Inuyasha," the daiyoukai said as he rose to his feet, voice as cold and condescending as ever.

Inuyasha sprang up as soon as the weight was off his back, hands going to his sword in preparation to draw even as he returned that cold glare with his own fiery one. "Hey now! Where do you get off ordering me around like that, you-"

"You will follow," Sesshoumaru said, completely ignoring Inuyasha's rant.

"Oh yeah? And why would we wanna do that?"

Was that a sigh from the demon lord? Surely not! "Because Naraku is waiting not five minutes' walk from here. You _did_ want to find him, did you not?"

"Keh! I can't smell him; how do you know-"

"He has this Sesshoumaru's mate. Follow or not, as you will. I, Sesshoumaru, will destroy him regardless." 

Not wasting any more time on his hotheaded half-brother, Sesshoumaru turned and started running towards the tug and pain that was his mate, able to move faster as the pain cut off abruptly. He could still sense Sephiroth and the man's continuing distress was enough to tell the daiyoukai that he was both alive _and_ conscious but why had Naraku stopped?

Behind him, he could hear the sound of Inuyasha and his group following closely. Good. The more fighters, the better the odds.

_I'm coming, my Sephiroth. It won't be long now._


	28. Chapter 28

The darkness was hot, humid, and far too tight for comfort. In one small corner of his mind, Sephiroth was almost embarrassed by his reaction to that, but knew that there was a good reason for it nonetheless. It wasn't so much the darkness or the confined space that made his body all but forget the long years of training as it gave small, panicky jerks as it struggled to free itself; he'd never been claustrophobic. That being said, being _unable to move_ in such a small space made a wave of panic rise up in him at a level that he'd never thought himself capable of.

Sephiroth, Shinra's favorite toy soldier and Hojo's prized guinea-pig-and-pincushion, did _not_ panic.

But he couldn't seem to stop as memory and old helpless fear overwhelmed him. He'd always hated restraints, the things that kept him down and helpless as Hojo poked and prodded and injected him with one experimental drug or chemical after the other, the chemicals surging under his skin and through his blood like liquid fire.

A fluttery feel against his skin like a thousand tiny threads brushing him, only these threads stayed stuck in place. For one brief moment the feeling was almost pleasant, somewhat reminiscent of being wrapped in Sesshoumaru's furry thing, and he tensed. Such a pleasant feeling while he was in restraint had _never_ been a good sign.

He was right. Almost immediately the warm fluttering changed to an almost burning and he could feel them pulling, sucking, draining him like when Hojo stole his blood for more 'research', only he had the feeling that whatever they were draining was _not_ blood. In a strange way it almost reminded him of the all-too-frequent dips in Mako that he'd had to endure for as long as he could remember.

It hurt.

It hurt and, combined with the panic already surging through him, his reaction was even more ingrained than instinct.

He wasn't even aware of the sudden absence of that painful sucking as he sent power surging down one arm toward the bracelet he wasn't wearing and the Materia that was dead anyway.

There was a reason he was always required to remove his accessories and Materia before one of Hojo's sessions since his return from Wutai.

The bracelet was gone and the Materia in their pouch were dead.

The world exploded anyway.

**oOo**

When they reached him, still standing with his tentacles out in the middle of the road, Naraku looked like he'd just taken a big bite of cake only to find out it was really a lemon in disguise. He was staring at a big ball of tentacles and looked like he was seriously considering abandoning them. Tentacles they had only seen once - when he'd tried to steal Sesshoumaru's power - trailed from the ball to Naraku but were still instead of pulsing with stolen power as they should be... and somehow managed to appear just as disgusted as Naraku himself.

Quite a feat, for tentacles.

Leaving Naraku to Inuyasha and his friends - who rushed in to attack as tactlessly as ever; did they never realize that it was that very disorganization that let the foul half-breed escape time and again? - Sesshoumaru approached the ball of tentacles, drawing Toukijin. He could sense Sephiroth inside the ball, could feel his panic like chill waves crashing over him, eased only slightly by the knowledge that he was there now, that he would free his trapped mate from Naraku's coils, that they would talk, and eventually be mates in truth.

He was still a dozen steps from the tentacle-ball - was that what it had looked like when _he_ had been engulfed? How degrading! - when he came to an abrupt stop, instincts screaming. Something had changed. He couldn't make any sense out of the jumble that Sephiroth was projecting, but he knew that he wanted to be further away than he was.

_Now._

Even with his demonic speed he was almost too late. The very edge of the blast caught him, picked him up, and threw him a fair distance down the road, the scent of burnt hair and fur and _fire!_ all around him. He hit the ground hard on his shoulder, the spiked guard shattering under the force of the uncontrolled landing, then rolled head over heels a few times before coming to a stop on his back, ears ringing from the blast, body protesting a dozen minor injuries.

_What_ was _that?!_ And how did Sephiroth-

_Sephiroth!_

Sesshoumaru shook off his momentary disorientation and stood. The jumble of unreadable thought and emotion from Sephiroth was gone. Instead, there was only one thing that occupied his thoughts. When he finally caught sight of his mate, his impression was proven true.

Sephiroth stood where the ball of tentacles had been. He seemed physically unharmed - which meshed with the daiyoukai's own experience - but there was a visible corona of red around him, moving and dancing like live flame, and one forearm was almost invisible because of the bright crimson light that seemed to come from inside the limb itself. There were other colors - blue, green, yellow, purple, and more red - but they were barely traces among the red. His eyes were glazed with the green glow that the daiyoukai had seen during their first fight at the temple, and he was staring at Naraku with a tiny mocking smile even as his eyes screamed fury-bloodlust-death.

**oOo**

Naraku stared. Everything was going wrong!

He'd thought himself incredibly lucky when he'd come across this 'Sephiroth' of Hojo's so soon after he'd begun looking. Even before they had spoken, he'd known that he had to have him one way or another; the very way he walked projected confidence and power, and the bloodlust he could sense only made him all the more delicious.

Then the man had dared to reject his unprecedentedly honest offer of an alliance, thrown Naraku's more than generous offer back in his face and things got completely out of hand.

Having seen the man, Naraku could now only agree with Hojo's assessment of Sephiroth's strength, putting him on a level with Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru. He _knew_ that Sephiroth was enemies with the icy daiyoukai. He _knew_ it; their fight at the now-destroyed temple was what brought the man to his attention, after all. So why did he react like he had when Naraku offered to help him against him? It didn't make any sense! Surely, they could both only benefit in an alliance against their common enemy!

But _no._

So Naraku had gone with his backup plan. When in doubt, absorb! 

It had worked perfectly, too, just as it had with Sesshoumaru. The man had surrounded himself with tentacle-bits, then got trapped by them just like before, unable to move, to escape. He'd sent out his power-sucking tentacles and waited for the man's power - power to rival Sesshoumaru's! - to come to him.

That was when things went wrong, and they only got worse from there.

The first few pulses of power were already surging into him when he realized that not only did he _not_ feel the almost-euphoric rush of new strength and power, it actually _hurt;_ burning in his body, his tentacles. A few more pulses and he had to stop, unable to concentrate with _that_ \- whatever _that_ was - circulating in his system. It felt like he'd injected himself with Sesshoumaru's poison and it was burning him from the inside out, only he'd absorbed enough poison youkai to be immune to most such poisons.

As if his failed attempt to absorb the man wasn't enough to ruin his day, who should show up just then but Sesshoumaru, followed closely by that damned Inuyasha and his rag-tag group of misfits.

How could he have forgotten to raise a barrier? Then again, neither of them were supposed to show up. Inuyasha's group he'd known was near - as did anyone else in the vicinity; stealth was _not_ their strong point - but he'd cloaked his presence and scent well enough that they should have remained oblivious. But Sesshoumaru had been at his palace only hours earlier. Why had he rushed out like that? Had he merely been pursuing Sephiroth to challenge him again? Was all this mere dumb luck?

He was trying to decide what to do when he fled like he always did when facing such odds - should he or shouldn't he take Sephiroth along for 'later'? - when his already unfavorable position got even worse.

He felt the buildup of power in the man in his tentacles - how could he not? - but even so he never expected the enormous fireball that blasted outwards, incinerating the tentacles instantly and sending everyone flying.

By now used to having bits blown off, he recovered quickly and looked up to see Sephiroth stalking closer, everything about him screaming for Naraku's imminent demise.

Maybe trying to absorb him had been an all-around bad idea.

He did the only thing he could; sent out a blast of miasma and fled. He would clearly have to give the matter some more thought before his next attempt.

He hadn't been flying for very long - was barely a few miles from the attack site - when there was an odd quivering and irritating unnatural jangling noise from where he had stored his new box. Great. Was _it_ broken now?

He landed on a thick branch in the leafy forest canopy and dug out the box as the noise continued. Why was it wailing? Was it hungry? What did you _feed_ a magic mirror, anyway? Had Kanna been keeping secrets?

He opened it carefully, not wanting to see if it considered _fingers_ to be food - not that they wouldn't grow back, but why suffer the annoyance if he didn't have to? - and looked at it.

"What?" he asked it.

**oOo**

Almost an hour later, Hojo disconnected the call and looked to President Shinra. The two were sitting in an office in the Mt. Nibel reactor and what irritation Shinra had displayed when Hojo had called him there from Midgar had disappeared as they spoke with the Ancient called Naraku in a three-way conference call.

Now, the fat man was almost quivering with excitement and greed. "The Promised land!" he crowed. "It has to be!"

Hojo smiled thinly. Truly, manipulating the oaf was a waste of his enormous talents but Shinra was the one with the money so some sacrifices had to be made. In the name of Science and Progress, of course. "And the funding I asked about earlier?"

"Done! Use it - and any other resources you need - but find a way for us to get there. That much life; it must be _brimming_ with untapped Mako! Get us there and you'll never have to worry about funding again!"

Hojo doubted that; the President was quite forgetful when it came to handing out money in a way that he wasn't when it came to _collecting_ it. Even so, he would take full advantage of that momentary favor and use it to get his hands on that 'Naraku' and 'Sesshoumaru' and retrieve the wayward Sephiroth. Oh, and get access to the Promised Land for Shinra.

"Of course," he said simply. "I already know where to start looking."


	29. Chapter 29

While Inuyasha cursed pointlessly at Naraku's escape, Sesshoumaru's attention was fixed firmly on his mate, his Sephiroth, even as he wondered how to approach the topic of their relationship now that he didn't have a rescue under his belt to temper the other man's reaction to seeing him again so soon.

Yet while he was still a bit irritated that Sephiroth had saved himself when _Sesshoumaru_ had uncharacteristically intended to, he couldn't help but be impressed. Where had that blast of fire come from? It had been strong enough to completely incinerate the engulfing tentacles, throw Sesshoumaru himself off his feet, and singe him a bit in the process. He knew that he would have to trim the burnt ends of hair and fur once he got back to the palace; their stink rising up to irritate his sensitive nose.

How had Sephiroth done that? Did it mean that the other man had been _holding back_ during all of their previous fights? It was a distinctively disconcerting thought; no one had held back against him since he was a pup learning how to fight! Why would Sephiroth do that, though, especially at their first rather unfriendly meeting? It made no sense. Then again, _he_ had been holding back his true form as well, which made just as much sense. Why had he done that? Why had _they?_

Putting the thought aside for later consideration, Sesshoumaru turned back to the problem at hand. Namely, how to approach the topic of their mating in such a way that Sephiroth would see that Sesshoumaru was agreeing to the odd equality, so that the other man would be happy with that, with him, and they could go back to the palace and hopefully get back to what they had almost started before Sephiroth had left him.

He tried to read Sephiroth through their bond, but all he got was a sea of thwarted anger and bloodlust.

As if to underscore that, Sephiroth's glowing arm jerked in the direction in which Naraku had just vanished and a trio of blazing fireballs appeared at his hand and blasted after the fleeing mongrel. Again. Again. Again and again until over a dozen of them were streaking across the sky, traveling an impressive distance before fizzling out in a flurry of sparks.

Well, that answered _that._

Even Inuyasha's notoriously loudmouthed group had fallen silent at the man's display of fury, staring with wide eyes before they abruptly remembered somewhere else that they had to be and left, ignoring Inuyasha's protests that he could take on Sephiroth _and_ Sesshoumaru any day.

Cowards.

Even so, Sesshoumaru couldn't deny that the thought of being almost anywhere else was very appealing just then.

Steeling himself for the coming confrontation, Sesshoumaru decided that perhaps the best approach was straight ahead. From what he could piece together, Sephiroth had been treated to _far_ more attempts at control and manipulation than anyone would like and the open, honest approach might just be his best bet. 

Another deep breath then he moved towards his mate. He walked slowly but steadily as he would towards any wounded creature, steps firm despite the inner trepidation. He didn't want another confrontation, another misunderstanding, another argument, another separation. All he wanted was his mate, and for both of them to head back to the palace together to find out what that meant in their changed relationship.

He hadn't gone very far when Sephiroth turned in his direction. The look the other man gave him froze him in his tracks as his heartbeat sped up with an odd mixture of nerves and anticipation.

That familiar gaze, now green-glazed and accompanied by that superior smirk set off almost every danger-instinct he had. What-?

"Sesshoumaru," Sephiroth said, tone amused. He lifted his glowing arm in the daiyoukai's direction and, in conscious or subconscious echo of Sesshoumaru's words from a previous encounter, said: "Run."

The memory of what had happened after _he_ had last said those words flashed through Sesshoumaru's mind with lightning speed, heating his blood and dilating his eyes until the iris was only a thin golden line around a sea of bottomless black.

He ran.

**oOo**

It was well into the afternoon before Sephiroth finally managed to bring down the daiyoukai, putting on a burst of speed and zigging when Sesshoumaru zagged. He slammed full-force into the other man and sent them both tumbling across the leafy ground. He made sure that he landed on top, pinning Sesshoumaru facedown beneath him with his lone arm twisted behind him.

Victory!

For a long moment neither moved, panting for breath after the hours-long chase. Once their breathing had calmed somewhat, Sephiroth more than half-expected Sesshoumaru to struggle, to fight for his freedom, for dominance, since that control of whatever was - or had been - between them was what had caused most of the friction between them, but the daiyoukai didn't move, staying strangely passive beneath him.

The blinding rage he had been so consumed by earlier had simmered back down to its original frustration and sense of almost-betrayal. Now confusion joined it as well as he stared down at the man beneath him. Why wasn't he struggling? Complaining? Explaining to Sephiroth once again just what his _place_ was, and his _duty_ to his 'alpha'. If he did, if he tried to control him, own him.... Well. He'd already left him once. He could do it again if he had to.

But Sesshoumaru didn't move, made no sound. He simply lay there and seemed to be considering something.

Sephiroth looked down at him. He took in the broken armor, the soft silken clothing that was a little out of place after their tumble, the profile peeking out from beneath disheveled hair. He couldn't help the rush of heat that surged through him at the sight; his so-called 'mate' _was_ sinfully attractive, as he'd already admitted. If only he could accept _Sephiroth_ as easily....

Sesshoumaru moved slightly, turning his head a little to rest more comfortably on the ground, and Sephiroth's concentration and focus sharpened abruptly to a razor edge.

"Sesshoumaru," he said, keeping the newly-roused feral edge from his voice with an effort.

"Yes?" the daiyoukai asked, peering at him from the corner of one eye, unable to do more pinned as he was.

"This mark, explain it to me again. You bit me?"

"Yes."

"And now it marks me as yours."

"...Yes. But it's not a mark of posess- _AH!_ "

Sephiroth tightened his hold as the daiyoukai jerked beneath him in shocked surprise but didn't let go from where he had latched on, sinking his teeth into the other man's shoulder and that bit of bare flesh that had caught his attention only moments before. Rich, warm blood with an acidic tang flooded his mouth, poured down his throat and he swallowed greedily even as he sank his teeth in more, making sure that the wound was deep enough to last before he slowly withdrew, licking the blood from his lips.

"There," he said after a moment, looking down at the bleeding wound that matched his own in satisfaction. To his surprise, despite the obvious - for Sesshoumaru - shock, the daiyoukai had yet to react. He had rather expected a violent response and yet another assertion of the demon's dominance. Did he just not fully realize what Sephiroth had done yet? One way to find out.

"There," he said again. "Now I am yours... but _you_ are _mine._ "

"Equal?" Sesshoumaru asked, proving that he _was_ paying attention. Oddly enough, it sounded more like if he was asking for confirmation than if he was upset in any way. What-?

"Equal," Sephiroth confirmed.

A small nod from Sesshoumaru, followed by an even tinier wince as the new wound protested the movement. "Good," the daiyoukai agreed. "Equal."


	30. Chapter 30

To be honest, Sephiroth hadn't expected Sesshoumaru to be so accepting of the changed situation between them, especially considering how the daiyoukai had reacted to his request earlier. But while last night's request had been answered only by categorical denial and an almost-lecture on 'alphas', 'betas', and his so-called duty as such, this time there was none of that. This time, Sesshoumaru seemed to accept his offer, accept _him_... but he'd thought that before and been wrong. Why would this time be any different? What had changed, really? And had Sesshoumaru decided to accept him on his own or was he only doing it because Sephiroth had bitten him in turn and he was acting like some obscure demonic rule unknown to the ex-General told him to?

Was it real?

And could he trust it even if it was? The daiyoukai had told him plainly enough the night before that he saw him only as a 'beta', as a body, as something that was there for his pleasure and his pleasure alone. Could he trust this sudden reversal in the face of that? How could anyone change such a fundamental belief so quickly with any amount of sincerity?

But the way the daiyoukai had said 'equal'... it sounded genuine. It had also sounded somewhat relieved, leading Sephiroth to wonder just what it was that the demon had been concerned about? Had he thought that Sephiroth's request had been something else? But what? What could the daiyoukai have feared? Wait. Had he thought that it was Sephiroth's way of saying that he wanted the 'alpha' role?

Now that he thought about it from the daiyoukai's perspective, if he hadn't known that those titles didn't mean anything to him, if he saw all relationships as only consisting of 'one alpha, one beta', it might have sounded like that. Now that he knew that that _wasn't_ what Sephiroth was after, that the request was for them to be equals....

What was he supposed to do?

A slight shifting of the body beneath him as Sesshoumaru tried to find a more comfortable position settled his attention quite firmly on one possibility as armor-clad hips moved between his thighs, brushing up against flesh that didn't really _need_ any more stimulation after their long chase. He froze, struggling to hold back the growing urge to give in, to tear off that armor and the silk beneath in search of pale flesh, to thrust himself deeply into that pale body and....

And what? _Make_ Sesshoumaru want it, want _him?_ Was he really any better than the daiyoukai at his most arrogant when he thought like that?

Beneath him Sesshoumaru went still and he looked down at him only to see a faint pink grace pale cheekbones, then, in one unmistakable move, the demon's armored hips lifted to grind against him, the rich, heavy scent of his arousal rising from him in thick waves.

Sephiroth clenched his jaw and struggled to hold back that feral need despite the other man's actions. "Sesshoumaru?" he asked, almost hissed, through gritted teeth.

"Sephiroth," Sesshoumaru acknowledged, looking back at him from the corner of one red-tinged golden eye, his voice low, almost husky.

**oOo**

The air was thick with the almost-cloying scent of their combined arousal and neither man was unaffected. Breathing, only recently calmed after the long chase, sped up once more even as hearts beat harder, faster, and eyes dilated, almost glazing over with need.

To the daiyoukai's surprise, despite the fact that they were both almost unbearably aroused, Sephiroth did not take the opportunity to mount him right then and there as he had done. Instead, the man simply pressed his lips to the new, still-bleeding wound on Sesshoumaru's shoulder in a light kiss then pulled free of the demon and stood before turning and offering a black-gloved hand.

Sesshoumaru turned over and pushed himself into a sitting position then stared at the offered hand for a long moment before putting his own clawed one into it and letting himself be pulled up even though he was more than capable of rising unassisted. Was that part of what it meant to be 'equal'? And why hadn't Sephiroth taken him? They were both _more_ than willing; his nose didn't lie....

Some of his confusion must have shown on his face because Sephiroth spoke.

"This is usually done in a bed, isn't it?" the leather-clad man asked. "I thought you might prefer that."

Sesshoumaru had to acknowledge the fact that if he was going to do this, if he was going to do what he'd always believed he never would and let himself be mounted, he _would_ appreciate the comfort of a bed and familiar surroundings. The whole thought of it - of letting another male on top of him - was still odd enough to make him more than a bit apprehensive but - for his mate, his _equal_ , his Sephiroth - he was willing to try. And as he had already decided, even if he didn't come to enjoy it as Sephiroth had, if it was what would make his mate happy he could endure it every now and again. 

He hoped.

He realized that Sephiroth was still waiting for a reply and spoke. "Ah... yes. That... would be better. Thank you."

Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement then turned to look around them. "I don't suppose you know where we are and how to get back, do you?" he asked.

**oOo**

The trip back to the palace took a fraction of the time that the trip out had taken, thanks to Sesshoumaru. While they _could_ have flown - Sesshoumaru on his demonic cloud, Sephiroth using whatever power it was that let him fly unaided - Sephiroth had admitted to him that for him flight was a bit hit-or-miss unless his emotional state was laced with anger or he was in some sort of battle.

Not wanting to waste the time it would take to walk the distance, especially since he _had_ thrown aside his lordly duties to follow Sephiroth without warning in the dead of night and the day wasn't getting any younger, the daiyoukai decided that a quicker mode of transportation was needed. 

He _could_ have brought them there using his energy ball form but it would use too much power to transport two people any mentionable distance. He could also have flown them there on his demonic cloud, but he didn't.

The look on Sephiroth's face when Sesshoumaru released his hold on his true form was both flattering and reassuring to the ego that being marked in turn had bruised. It was almost enough to offset the embarrassment as he suddenly realized that in his dog form he had no way to hide the proof of his arousal, his sex hanging hot and heavy between his legs. Glad that no blush would show on his furred face, Sesshoumaru did his best to ignore it and hoped that somehow his mate could do the same and not panic at the sight of an erection almost bigger than he was. Hopefully it would go away before they reached any inhabited areas.

As Sephiroth stared at him through eyes gone wide, shock plainly visible on his face, Sesshoumaru gingerly lowered himself to rest on the ground - the move not quite as smooth as it would have been if he still had his left arm - and gestured to his back with his muzzle.

It took a moment for Sephiroth to throw off his shock. He shot the youkai a wry grin. "So _this_ is why you're a 'dog' demon, hmm?" was all he said.

Sesshoumaru barked in agreement then, seized by an uncharacteristic mischief, licked his mate from head to toe, carefully holding back his poison, before gesturing to his back once more, ignoring the tiny moue of disgust from the slobbered-on man.

He waited patiently as his mate climbed up his side and settled in place on his back, then stood. He took a few steps to make sure Sephiroth wouldn't fall off then broke into a run, huge paws pounding and tearing the ground with each step.

**oOo**

_Something_ was _definitely_ going on.

Peering through the thick, SOLDIER-proof glass of the Mako tube and out into the lab, the man now called Specimen Z knew that something out there had changed, that something was going to happen, even before the other two Mako tubes in the lab were cleaned out and inspected. He'd known it because of the increased amount of activity out there and by the fact that even though Hojo was in and out of the room more often now than ever, he all but ignored Z and C, the 'specimens' that he'd so enjoyed experimenting on before.

_Not_ that he was complaining. If it kept him and Cloud off the cold steel of the table and reasonably clear-headed, as far as Zack was concerned Hojo could ignore them all he wanted.

It _was_ strange, though.

But no matter the cause, Zack was determined to take full advantage of the situation and find a way to get he and Cloud both out of there before whatever the distraction was ended.

As far as he could tell, it had only been a few weeks since they'd been taken by Hojo from the Mt. Nibel reactor after their ill-fated fight with the insane Sephiroth. He could be wrong about the timeframe, though, since he had no way of knowing how long he'd been unconscious either at first of after one of Hojo's sessions. He knew that it couldn't have been more than a month or two since even with the irregular feeding schedule and Hojo's experiments he hadn't lost much strength. If he could just get them out of the tanks, he was confident that he could take on any opposition he had to to get them away. Even Cloud, Hojo's favored subject for his scientific torture, hadn't weakened enough to be unable to help if he got hold of a weapon.

Now if he could only find the tanks' weakness. He knew there _had_ to be one; nothing was ever absolutely perfect. He just had to find it.

Soon.

When he saw Hojo with a disturbingly gleeful President Shinra, he knew that whatever the insane scientist was planning had just become even more immediate and a lot more dangerous with official backing.

He quickly gave up on the sides of the tube; they were made to hold up to SOLDIER strength and they did so with admirable stubbornness.

After Shinra's visit, things seemed to pick up even more out there; more lab techs, new machines being installed, a _third_ Mako tube being brought in and installed, bringing the total count up to five. 

He overheard some of the lab techs complaining about the amount of troops and knew that a clean getaway had become that much harder. Then again, maybe it had always been like that and he simply hadn't known.

The top of the tank was equally stubborn, resisting him despite his best efforts to push, pull, and batter his way through the metal of the cover itself and the ports that pumped in the Mako.

Which brought up a subject he'd been conveniently ignoring: Where were they going to go after he got them out? With Hojo backed by Shinra, where could they run that they couldn't be hunted down? There was no part of Gaia that Shinra couldn't reach!

A single air bubble rising up through the Mako he was pickling in led him to a spot in the floor near one side where the seal had broken just the tiniest little bit.

More than enough for a SOLDIER-First like him to use to his advantage.

It was another conversation between lab techs, overheard as he rested after his latest attempt to get free, that gave him a solution to the question of where to run after he got them out that he would never have thought possible.


	31. Chapter 31

Sesshoumaru paused outside the last village before the palace late that afternoon to let Sephiroth slide off his back and regain his humanoid form, glad to once again be covered by silk and armor. The run in his true form had been invigorating; he really should find the time to do it more often. Unfortunately, like the chase before it, the run had done nothing to help alleviate his 'problem' and the quick dip in a river they had passed had only worked for a little while.

Contrary to whatever vague hope he'd had, though, the change in form didn't help and if anything the stop had made it even worse. Now he could smell his mate clearly, Sephiroth's welcoming scent no longer being blown back away from him by the wind of their passing, and the fact that the man was also covered in _his_ scent - both from his fur and slobber, still there despite the fact that Sephiroth had taken a dip in the river as well - well. Unfortunately, the armor that hid the sight of his arousal from everyone's sight did nothing to conceal the scent of it.

For the first time he cursed the cool-headed tactics that had made his ancestors decide that anyone who wanted to get to the palace would first have to pass through that village.

Briefly he debated skipping it, using his energy ball or cloud to zip them right to his quarters, but regretfully set the thought aside. Nose filled with the scent of their combined arousal, mind awash with anticipation, anxiety, and images he'd never thought lurked in his imagination, he knew that his concentration was much too fragmented for either.

As it turned out, the trek through the village was both more and less of an ordeal than he'd anticipated.

As Lord, he had always taken the same route through the village - straight down the main road - and it never occurred to him to change that now, so down the main road they went. At first everything seemed normal and the daiyoukai felt a wave of almost-relief rush through him.

Then they reached the market and he knew that the vague hope he had held on to - that the villagers somehow wouldn't notice their state - was in vain. 

They were walking through the market, villagers giving way before him as always, but instead of simply going back to whatever they were doing before once he had passed, he saw startled looks, followed by couples dragging each other off, the scent of lust and arousal spiking.

By the time they reached the edge of the village, the entire village reeked of it.

So much for he and Sephiroth being able to work out their relationship before announcing it to anyone. His own desire only heightened by the scent of that much lust, Sesshoumaru couldn't really bring himself to care. The only thing on his mind just them was how to get both he and Sephiroth into his quarters both quickly and without calling undue attention to themselves. If they were noticed, they would have to go and attend to the work they had neglected that day and all he wanted just then was his mate's naked skin against his own as they writhed together. Objectively, he knew that Sephiroth would most likely want to take him but at that point, his loins aching with long-denied need, he didn't care. Just as long as _something_ happened between them and he found release...!

The journey up the hill to the palace was both painful and mercifully quick.

**oOo**

Sephiroth didn't even have time to sigh in relief as Sesshoumaru's door slid shut behind them before the daiyoukai was on him, tongue thrust half-way down his throat even as that lone hand slipped into his battle-coat in search of flesh, razor-sharp claws scratching lightly.

The walk across the room to Sesshoumaru's futon was a blur of touch and heat he barely registered, only realizing that clothing and armor had vanished somewhere along the way when they tumbled down onto the bed in a mess of silver hair and tangled limbs.

Sesshoumaru had landed beneath him and, though he longed to plunge into that warm body with a desire that was almost frighteningly overwhelming, the daiyoukai making no move to throw him off or deny him, he was still aware enough to see the tension in him, the unease tightening the skin around lust-reddened golden eyes. Willing Sesshoumaru might have been, but ready for it he was _not._

Which Sephiroth could understand, even as his own frustration cranked up another notch. It had been a bit hard for _him_ to accept that he had been taken after the 'encounter' in the forest that had left them mated. But while he had been used to being the one in charge, the SOLDIER-General, it hadn't always been so and even _then_ he still took orders from others; Lazard, SOLDIER's Director, and President Shinra chief among them.

Sesshoumaru, from what he could understand, hadn't taken orders from _anyone_ since his father's death. He was the Lord; President to Sephiroth's General. Even if his mind understood that it wasn't Sephiroth forcing him into submission but a give-and-take between equals, convincing the body of that would be something else again altogether.

Which meant that there would be no 'plunging into Sesshoumaru's hot depths' that day, no matter how willing they both might be. He knew how dangerous the daiyoukai was; the _last_ thing he wanted was for the demon to panic and attack him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Luckily for their mutual frustration, there were other things that they _could_ do and Sephiroth had his habit of reading anything he picked up - and Shinra's perky new secretary that had left those women's magazines on the table for waiting visitors - to thank for the fact that he knew some of them and - at least in theory - how to do a few.

His lips left Sesshoumaru's to press a line of light, licking kisses down the daiyoukai's jaw and throat, speeding up a little as he tensed beneath him and he remembered that to Sesshoumaru, a bared throat was a sign of submission. The _last_ thing he wanted for was for the demon to go back to his previous misconceptions and pick a fight.

A soft kiss to his own bite-mark on an otherwise flawless shoulder, licking away a stray drop of slightly-acidic blood, then he moved on.

A light nip to one sharp collarbone and he grinned slightly in satisfaction as Sesshoumaru's quickened breathing hitched slightly in response. Blue-green eyes, glazed and sparkling with lust and pleasure, looked up at the flushed face of his mate, his lover, his Sesshoumaru, even as he made his way slowly down the firm skin that was the valley between hard pectorals, then as he sought out and closed his lips around one small nipple.

Sesshoumaru's reaction was all he could have hoped for; the silvery head falling back with a moan, his single clawed hand coming up to cup the back of Sephiroth's head and press him closer, slim body arching beneath him to offer itself to the former General even as his legs bent at the knee, slim feet sliding up the sheets even as those toned legs closed on Sephiroth's hips.

He suckled and played with the now-peaked nipple at his lips, one hand rising to play with its neglected twin until Sesshoumaru made a tiny noise Sephiroth had never heard from him before, then moved on to give the other nipple the same treatment.

Sesshoumaru's hand was almost catlike as it kneaded the back of his head, fingers flexing and relaxing, claws pricking and vanishing over and over when Sephiroth decided it was time to move on, abandoning sensitized nipples with a goodbye kiss then once again continuing on his downward journey.

His hands slid down pale sides, over deep rose stripes to run in a firm yet gentle caress over hips and thighs even as his lips trailed down a well-toned stomach. A brush of his tongue into the inviting cleft of the navel earned him another one of those all-too-enticing sounds from Sesshoumaru. He could see the points of the demon's fangs digging into a much-abused lower lip but those delicious sounds managed to escape anyway. Still his downward journey continued, down over the tight belly framed on either side by the wings of his hip bones and then he was there.

One last nipping kiss to that firm belly then he knelt back slightly on his feet to study the problem at hand. Right. Now to see how well his magazine-born theoretical knowledge would translate when put to the test.

The way the daiyoukai's body tensed as he lay a row of light, teasing kisses up that quivering, swollen shaft, legs rising to close tighter around Sephiroth's shoulders even as that clawed hand closed tightly on a hank of silver hair brought a wicked grin to kiss-swollen lips, mischief dancing in his eyes. Back down the shaft then up again, this time adding the occasional tiny lick or teasing nip, to be rewarded by a breathless, broken moan from above.

That moan went straight to his loins and the erection that didn't really _need_ any more help, thank you very much. Lightning-quick, Sephiroth considered that. Surely Sesshoumaru was no better off than he was, having been marinating in frustrated arousal just as long. Perhaps he should skip the play and move straight to the grand finale? What was the rush, after all? He could always play next time and extending their mutual frustration just then would be needlessly and pointlessly cruel. Better to do it when they were both able to enjoy it.

Right, then. One last, teasing kiss at the base then he lifted up slightly and took as much of that engorged penis into his mouth as he could, one hand closing firmly around Sesshoumaru's shaft, the other holding down suddenly-bucking hips.

The strangled cry that escaped Sesshoumaru's lips at that was one Sephiroth looked forward to hearing many times in the future, his ego preening at the fact that he had been the one to pull it from the daiyoukai. Him, and no one else.

Lift up again, hot flesh sliding free of his lips until only the head remained. His tongue flicked slightly, teasingly, over it, gathering up the slightly-acidic fluid he found there, then he slid back down again. He sucked and licked and stroked and fluttered and tried other things he had read about, rewarded as the daiyoukai tensed, balls high and tight, almost ready to--

There was barely any warning.

One moment his entire consciousness was focused on the act he was performing for his mate, the next the door to Sesshoumaru's quarters slid open and he suddenly found himself buried under a thin silk sheet Sesshoumaru abruptly flung over them both, legs closing tight around his head to hold him still even as he heard Rin's voice from beyond his dubious concealment. He froze, eyes wide, lips stretched wide about half-way down the demon's shaft.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" he heard her call cheerily in greeting. "You're back, my Lord! Jaken was most distraught when he found you gone this morning. Where did you go, my Lord?"

To Sesshoumaru's credit, his voice was almost steady as he answered. "I had something to attend to," he said. His voice took on a slight tone of censure as he continued. "Rin. What has this Sesshoumaru told you about entering his private quarters?"

"To always call out at first because-- Oh. Rin is sorry, Lord Sesshoumaru. She forgot. Did she disturb you, my Lord?"

"Hn. This Sesshoumaru was... dealing with important matt-"

"Were you trying to take a nap, my Lord?" she asked in an almost-whisper.

Much as he had come to almost enjoy the girl's cheerful presence around the palace, at that moment all Sephiroth wished was that she would leave. His jaw was starting to ache at holding still with Sesshoumaru still buried deep in his mouth and he was drooling embarrassingly. His tongue moved in an ineffective effort to ease the growing ache in his jaw, only to be rewarded by a tiny gasp from Sesshoumaru and those thighs clamping tighter around his head.

"Rin," Sesshoumaru said, voice tainted with the faintest touch of strain. "Leave now. This Sesshoumaru will speak to you again at the evening meal."

"Yes, my Lord," she agreed, cheerful as ever. "Rin will wait for you. Have a nice nap, my Lord!"

"I am not-"

The second he heard the door slide shut, Sephiroth lifted slightly, pulling free of Sesshoumaru's erection. He flexed his jaw a few times to ease the ache, then plunged back down one last time, ignoring the daiyoukai's stern "Sephi-"

The strangled cry he earned as hot flesh twitched between his lips and shot down his throat was almost worth the sudden panic at not being able to breathe properly as hand and thighs held him firmly in place and his mouth overflowed as he couldn't swallow quickly enough. After that it only took a couple of strokes to finish himself off, his own warm seed decorating his hand and belly.

Sephiroth freed himself from Sesshoumaru's newly-slackened hold, pushed back the sheet and moved up the bed to lie beside the daiyoukai, laying a chaste kiss on one striped cheek before lying still and enjoying the fading euphoria.

He didn't know how much time had passed before Sesshoumaru spoke.

"You didn't..." he trailed off but Sephiroth understood. He lay a light kiss on the shoulder nearest him.

"You weren't ready," he said simply. "There will be plenty of time for that later."

The daiyoukai nodded, the last of his tension fading away to leave only content, satisfied lethargy. He settled firmly against Sephiroth, laying a small, awkward kiss of his own on pale skin. "Thank you."

Sephiroth returned the kiss, lay an arm gently over the demon and pressed closer. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly, meeting the lethargic golden eyes with his own blue green. "You are my mate, my lover, my equal. I only want you - want _us_ \- to be happy and that won't happen by forcing things that we aren't both ready for."

A rare smile crossed Sesshoumaru's lips and his lone hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from his mate's face, tucking it behind one round ear. "So wise," he said, tone both serious and teasing at once. "My demon was wise to choose you as a mate."

Sephiroth smiled softly in turn. "And I am lucky to have you."

Mischief danced in gold. "Of course," he agreed arrogantly. "I _am_ an amazing catch."

Blue-green eyes widened in shock then glowed with mischief of their own. He threw off the tempting lethargy and pounced, fingers searching out ribs in the most undignified assault he had ever launched.

Sesshoumaru retaliated in kind, though he was at a distinct disadvantage by the fact that he only had one arm and had to be careful of his claws.

**oOo**

When Jaken, having just found out about his lord's return, slid open the door and went in without asking or announcing his presence, he saw his lord and that human, Sephiroth, playing on the bed like a pair of pups, nude as the day they were born.

Faced with the sight of his lord and a _human_ in such an atypical, undignified display, he did the only thing he could.

He fainted.


	32. Chapter 32

Hojo stared into the glowing green depths of the reactor, the inexplicable ebb and flow of the raw Mako in the reservoir almost hypnotizing in its movements. Even though he had been working and experimenting with it for most of his life, it still had the power to fascinate him. It seemed that there was always something new, some previously-unknown property or effect to discover, the possibilities limited only by the reach of his funding.

Not that that was going to be a problem for much longer, at least for a little while.

He turned away from the mesmerizing green swells and looked at the man standing nearby; the corpulent form of one President Shinra. The man had insisted that if he was paying for sending a group of SOLDIERs and regulars down into the reservoir in search of a door to the Promised Land, then he would be there in person to see if they did or not.

Hojo glared internally. While the President's promise of lavish funding if they did find such a doorway was all that the scientist could hope for and more, the unspoken mirror of that - unspoken but understood by both nonetheless - was the axe that hung precariously over his current budget allotment. If the gateway to the Promised Land was _not_ at the bottom of the reactor pool as Hojo thought, that axe would fall and he would be reduced to what amounted to a glorified nurse as he would only be able to afford to make and administer the treatments that turned men into SOLDIERs, his glory days of scientific experimentation only a fond memory.

He shook the thought from his head with an effort. The door _had_ to be there. It was the only place that made sense, especially considering that Sephiroth, the wayward boy, had somehow gone through after his unbelievable defeat and fall into the pool.

All those years spent working and experimenting on the boy, improving him, making him so much better than even the SOLDIERs he commanded, implanting him with Jenova cells and turning him into a god... a god that _should_ have been fully and obediently under his control.

Sephiroth - the creature that was at once both his crowning achievement and his most spectacular failure.

If - when! - they recaptured the boy, he would take great pleasure in opening him up and finding out where he had gone wrong - and reminding him of his place, of his worthlessness, of the fact that he would be _nothing_ if it wasn't for Hojo. He would break that disobedient independent streak of his if it took him _another_ twenty-some years to do it!

Hojo looked up as a man is a SOLDIER-Second's uniform stopped in front of them. The glow in those eyes told him that the man was nearing the end of his treatments. The Second saluted Shinra, then spoke. "The equipment's all set up and the first guys are all suited up and ready to go, sir," he said. "Just give the word."

Shinra all but quivered, his greed almost tangible. "Go! Find that door to the Promised Land!"

"Yes, sir!" The Second saluted again then left to join the group waiting on one of the lower maintenance platforms just above the swirling green fog that hovered over the seething Mako.

A trio of SOLDIERs - impossible to tell their Class as they were dressed in the bulky, sealed suits worn by the technicians who had to go down into the pool if something down there needed maintenance - slipped into harnesses, their swords carefully wrapped and attached to that same harness even as they clipped on to cables coming from the machines that would lower them slowly into the pool. That done, they stepped off of the edge and let themselves be lowered, their two main objectives to search for a gateway to the Promised Land and to see if they could find any evidence that Sephiroth had been there.

**oOo**

Just a little more...! Just a little harder, and - Ha!

Zack blinked, a little shocked at the feel of lab-cool air on his skin even though he'd known that the tube was about to break. He shook his head, drops of the liquid he'd been pickling in going flying, then stood, careful not to step on any of the broken glass that now littered the floor around him. Ignoring his nudity, he hurried over to Cloud's tank and punched in the key-code he'd long-since memorized, watching as first the liquid inside drained, then as the door popped open and Cloud stepped out, a little pale and wobbly from the irregular meals more than anything else but just as determined as Zack to escape.

Luck was with them; the labs were all but deserted and what people they _did_ see were easy enough to avoid. Also in an unbelievable stroke of luck, one of the first rooms they checked in the search for clothes and weapons was apparently one of the rooms where the extra troops were quartered. A bit of searching among the lockers then they were both dressed in ordinary troopers' uniforms, complete with boots and face-hiding helmets.

Not a moment too soon.

They had barely started back towards the door when it opened, a trooper hurrying in. He stopped short when he saw them, then went to root around in a locker.

"You guys might want to get a move on," he said. Finding what he was looking for, he stuffed it into one of his uniform's many pockets and stood. "Captain'll have your asses if you make him look bad in front of the President. And where are your guns?"

It was Cloud that spoke up, one hand rising to rub the back of his neck in credible imitation of embarrassment as he drew on memories of overheard conversations from his own trooper days. "This place is like a maze," he complained. "I can never remember where anything is. I _know_ I wrote it down, but do you think I can find _that?_ "

A sympathetic chuckle from the other man. "I hear you. Come on, I'll show you. Hurry up!"

**oOo**

High above where Hojo and the President stood watching the activity going on below, a certain former redhead sat on a catwalk and watched _them_ , Mako-blue eyes taking in everything going on.

After Sephiroth's unqualified rejection of his request for some of his cells to stop the degradation process he had left, flying back to the burnt-out and blasted ruins that had once been Banora to let his temper cool before trying again.

Once he had calmed down, he knew that Sephiroth's reaction had been the best he could have hoped for given his approach. But seeing Sephiroth there with Zack - Zack, who not only had Angeal's beloved sword on his back but now wore his _hair_ like him, too - had done more than prick his notoriously quick temper; it had fanned it into an inferno. Had the silver General already forgotten Angeal, already _replaced_ him? When _he_ died, would Sephiroth simply find another redhead in the ranks and replace _him_ , too? Anger, outrage, denial.

Failure.

Anger, taunts, and demands were not the way to get Sephiroth's cooperation. He _knew_ that; the General was almost immune to that approach after having it used on him far too many times in the labs.

Even so, did Genesis' obvious need mean nothing to him?

It took him almost a week to calm down enough not to fly into a rage when he considered Sephiroth's rejection. It took him a almost two more to decide to seek him out and try again.

Midgar, when he got there, was pretty much the same as he remembered it; the damage to the Plate from his last attacks still visible though work crews were starting in on them. In stark contrast, the lobby of the Shinra building - what he could see of it through those glass doors - was just like new, without a single forgotten bullet hole or scorch mark to tell the tale of its practical destruction.

Of course. Shinra had an image to maintain, didn't it? If any of the lands it had conquered found out that it _wasn't_ untouchable....

Which was well beside the point, wasn't it? An old hand at it now, it was easy for Genesis to slip into the building, then into Sephiroth's quarters using an override he'd acquired years ago, before everything went wrong.

He waited for hours past the time Sephiroth usually returned from his office, but the silver General stubbornly refused to show up. Had he somehow found out that Genesis was there and was giving him a reply without bothering to actually _speak_ to him? Well, he'd show _him!_ He'd just wait there until General High-and-Mighty came back!

He fell asleep waiting, then spent a _highly_ embarrassing half-hour hiding under Sephiroth's bed the next morning while the cleaning service that kept Sephiroth's rooms neat and clean while he was away on missions did their work. There was a lone sock hiding under there, too, and it was odd - even to him - to think of Sephiroth as human enough to lose socks to the under-the-bed monsters just like anyone else.

Once they had gone, he slipped out from under the bed and looked around with new eyes, then wondered how he had missed it before.

The rooms were empty. Not _completely_ empty, everything was there just like the last time he'd been invited in, but they _felt_ empty, abandoned.

Why? Nibelheim wasn't _that_ far away considering the transportation Sephiroth could command and he hadn't seen any amount of monsters there that would delay the General for more than a few days even if he _hadn't_ had a little group of tag-alongs to help him. And surely with a Heal Materia, the little fireball he'd hit Zack with wouldn't be anything to worry about....

So what was going on? Where was Sephiroth?

Curious and, though he'd never admit it, a little worried, Genesis left Midgar and headed for Nibelheim.

**oOo**

Shock.

The sleepy little backwater he'd left only weeks - no, it was a month by then, surely, almost two - before was little more than a collection of burnt sticks and ash, stone foundations lining charred streets like so many worn-out teeth. There were no villagers, and it was from a roving patrol of Shinra troops that he learned about Sephiroth's insanity and ultimate fall.

He wasn't sure what to think about that, really.

No matter what came later, they _had_ been friends once; he and Angeal the _first_ friends Sephiroth had ever had. To know that Sephiroth was gone, was dead, hurt more than he had thought it would. Honestly, given their recent animosity he'd thought that he would be glad. Without Sephiroth there to block his light, surely it would be his turn to shine....

But he wasn't glad, not even a little, and it wasn't just because his hopes for a cure were now gone.

So there he sat on a catwalk high above the reactor pool that was Sephiroth's final resting place and wondered what he was going to do now. A grim chuckle as he realized that whatever it was would have to be done soon, at the rate he was degrading he didn't _have_ much longer.

Then hope sparked again as a snippet of conversation drifted up to him from below, something about finding proof that Sephiroth had been in the reactor.

Had they never found the body? Was it - just perhaps - still down there? Was _that_ why there were SOLDIERs and troops there? To search the reactor for the body? Was there still a chance for him after all?

One way to find out.

He had to get into that reactor pool and find the body first!

Now how was he going to do that? There were lots of troops down there on the lower platform, a group of SOLDIERs climbing into protective suits. If he jumped down, he'd be full of bullets before he hit the pool and with his healing abilities still offline... Well, that just wasn't a possibility. Likewise, his face would me much too well-known for him to simply walk down there and take his place with the other SOLDIERs.

...Then again, who said he had to be with the SOLDIERs? A regular's helmet would be enough to conceal a multitude of sins or, in this case, his face.

**oOo**

It was pathetically easy.

He'd slipped away from the reactor and over to the Mansion that was no longer maintaining even the illusion of being abandoned now that the town was toast, and slipped inside. Down into the basement and - there!

Luck was on his side. There were three troopers; two just heading for a cache of weapons, the third waiting impatiently just outside the door.

He was just the right size.

In the few minutes or so it took the other two to take up weapons and ammo, he'd knocked out the other trooper, hidden him in another room, and was back in place, dressed in the unfamiliar trooper's uniform, his own clothing shoved to the bottom of the other man's backpack under the boxes of spare ammo, potions, and spare socks.

His good luck continued - as he had hoped, they _were_ headed over to join the other troops in the reactor.

Leading the way, Genesis praised himself for his brilliant plan even as he was glad that the other two didn't seem to notice that he wasn't the trooper that they _had_ been with.


	33. Chapter 33

President Shinra watched the cables sway as they lowered the first rank of SOLDIERs down into the reactor pool. Hojo stood beside him, watching just as eagerly, both men surrounded by the President's usual group of Turks. 

Below, more SOLDIERs were working the machines that lowered their colleagues while a group of regular troops stood by, ready to follow after the SOLDIERs if they _did_ manage to find a way through to the Promised Land. The SOLDIERs would be the first wave, the scouts and first line, as the Promised Land came under Shinra control. The regulars would defend and maintain the base camp, set up communications, and provide support if needed.

He frowned as three troopers hurried over to the others and joined the ranks, his face flushing an angry red. Late. _Late!_ How dare they be late, and on that day of all days! 

Maybe he should see to it that they were the first ones down after the first wave of SOLDIERs. Then again, did he really want the conquest of the Promised Land to be compromised by a group of slackers? Maybe he should let Hojo have them. If anyone could inspire someone _not_ to repeat their mistakes, it was him. Then again, none of Hojo's little experiments came with less than a five-digit cost; was his irritation at them enough to let Hojo waste that much and more on sub-par subjects?

Maybe, if they weren't sub-par _afterwards_....

He wasn't the only one to have noticed their late arrival; the troopers' captain right up in their helmet-covered faces and bellowing loudly and creatively enough for even the notoriously vindictive President to listen in appreciation. Before long, the three had been assigned all the most menial and degrading tasks in the anticipated base camp, and ordered to get suited up. As had been Shinra's first inclination, they would be the next ones down into the reactor pool once the doorway was found.

**oOo**

He still didn't know what had gone wrong. 

Sitting on a high branch not far from where he had first spoken to the one called Hojo, he could not seem to puzzle it out. He had been trying to figure it out since his disastrous attempt to absorb Sephiroth, trying to figure out why his tentacles hadn't been able to suck out the man's power, why they had hurt and burned instead. He hadn't tried sucking the power out of anyone since then - not that he had done it often before; it was so much easier to just absorb them completely - and the insides of his power-sucking tentacles _still_ felt singed. Worse, for all that effort and pain, he didn't feel any stronger; his demonic energy level no different than it had been before. Had it all been for nothing?

And _why_ had Sesshoumaru showed up just then? If he hadn't known any better, it almost looked like he was going to Sephiroth's rescue! 

Frustrated by the questions that seemed to lead only to more questions, he slammed one fist back into the trunk of the tree.

Started and stared in shock as the trunk cracked and split where he had hit it, the top of the tree falling over and hitting the ground with a booming crash. What the-? How had that happened? He hadn't been using any of his demonic power! How-?

The burning. It had to be. _Had_ he been pulling Sephiroth's power after all? He'd assumed not because he'd sensed no increase in his demonic energy, but the power he had just used hadn't been demonic in origin, nor had it been holy. It was something he'd never seen before, something unheard of. Unknown.

Something no one else would know how to deal with either.

Red eyes glinted with the faintest hint of green even as an evil grin spread across otherwise handsome features. Something no one else would know how to counter, hmm? He could endure the burning for that!

Now he just had to find the man and once again introduce him to his power-sucking tentacles. This time, though, he would _not_ forget to put up a barrier. Whatever had happened last time with Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha's ill-timed interference would _not_ happen again.

He _would_ have Sephiroth's unusual strength for himself!

Pleased with his decision, Naraku looked around, stretching his senses out in an effort to see if he could pick up any hint of the direction Sephiroth had gone after his little escape.

He didn't pick up any hint of Sephiroth - or Sesshoumaru or Inuyasha's group either, for that matter - but he did see something that peaked his curiosity.

Boots.

Boots slowly appearing from out of nowhere, twenty feet above the ground close to the hard-packed earth of the road.

_Interesting...._

**oOo**

Near a lonely path through a forest, not far from where the remains of a small battle rotted just inside the woods, a pair of heavy-booted feet appeared in the air perhaps twenty feet from the ground. Slowly they descended until a whole body, carefully dressed in Mako-resistant protective gear, was visible, being lowered by a sturdy cable attached to a harness.

Boots touched dirt, then the harness and suit were stripped to show the uniform of one of Shinra's SOLDIER-Firsts. The man took a quick look around, checked his Materia and the sword that had been attached to the harness as well, wrapped in its own protective covering. Satisfied, he pulled out his phone and hit two buttons.

"Hello?" came the irritatingly nasal voice after only two rings.

"Professor? I'm through. Send the others down on cable 3."

A quiet hissing near the edge of the nearby treeline had him turning in place, his phone trasferred to his off hand, sword at the ready in his dominant. Swift movement in the grass caught his attention, then up rose something that looked like some sort of greyish green snake, only with no eyes or mouth. Was that a _tentacle?_ Whatever it was, it was swaying from side to side, almost seeming to dance, almost as if it was curiou-

"What the-?!" He cursed in shock and embarrassed anger as more tentacles swarmed him from behind as he stood staring at the lone one like a green recruit, wrapping around him from shoulder to knee and pinning his arms to his sides before even his enhanced senses registered the first touch. His phone landed on the grassy ground with a soft thud. Used to his enhancements making him faster and stronger than most things on the planet, the sudden attack - and the fact that he couldn't seem to break free no matter how he strained - shook him to the core.

He couldn't do anything but yelp as he was suddenly yanked from the cleared area into the woods with insane speed, only to come face to face with an unknown man who seemed to be controlling the tentacles. In fact, the tentacles seemed to be coming out of his back, a theory that was proven true as even more tentacles emerged. 

They reached for him.

**oOo**

Hojo snapped his phone shut with a hand that shivered with anticipation, ignoring the barely-audible scream from the other end as inconsequential. There were bound to be _some_ casualties, after all, as they made their takeover of the Promised Land. He was rather curious, though, about what was over there that could take out a SOLDIER First so quickly and quietly. He would have to have the others send back the carcass for analysis once they discovered the creature. A live specimen would be ideal, but considering the assumed death of the First, he doubted that the other SOLDIERs would settle for anything less than its death, orders or not.

_Note to self: improve obedience in SOLDIER project._

Even better than the imminent acquisition of the unknown beast, though, was the increase in funding that was soon to be his. He _had_ managed, however unscientifically, to find the Promised Land for the President. As promised.

Hojo pushed down the evil grin and anticipatory chuckles with an effort and turned to President Shinra.

"The SOLDIER on cable 3 made it through," he said, almost quivering with glee, as he thought about the new and glorious experiments he could run with an increased budget.

"He's in the Promised Land?" Shinra, on the other hand, _did_ quiver in glee, the motion sending ripples like waves through his bulky flesh.

"Yes," Hojo answered. _In more ways than one...._

Greed glowing in his eyes with almost Mako-strength, Shinra looked down at the assembled troops and gave the order.

"Get down cable 3 and get me the Promised Land!" he said.

"Don't forget to capture 'Naraku' and 'Sesshoumaru', and retrieve Sephiroth!" Hojo added.

Below, men scrambled to obey as their commanders converted Shinra and Hojo's orders to military-speak. Weapons and safety suits were checked over one last time, then they were moving. SOLDIERs were the first to disappear, zipping down cable 3 one after the other, followed a little more slowly by most of the regulars, though some remained behind to send down the equipment once the area was secured.

The two men above watched the troops disappear down into the glowing green depths one after the other in satisfaction, though for different reasons.

The delinquent trio was among the first regulars sent down, and though they would help with the initial securing of the area after that they could only look forward to watching everyone else going off to find glory in the invasion of the Promised Land as they took care of the camp. A fitting punishment, and one that would give them plenty of time to get their act together.

Hojo watched the trio disappear below, a little disappointed that he wouldn't be getting them to play with - _yet_ \- but at the same time knowing that there wasn't much he could learn from sub-par subjects. Though there was something to be said of the joy of experimenting for experimenting's sake, especially when someone else was footing the bill.

For one moment, just as they disappeared, he was struck by the thought that two of them were somehow familiar, but shook it off with an effort. As a general rule, he didn't waste his time on non-SOLDIERs, with one notable exception. Which reminded him, he hadn't played with his latest subjects in almost a week.

It was only when a worried-looking lab assistant ran up to him with the information that Z and C had somehow managed to escape that he realized that he should have trusted that earlier twinge of familiarity.

How unscientific.


	34. Chapter 34

Sessoumaru slipped into the small enclosed courtyard that held his private hot springs and slid the door shut behind him. Stepping down onto the soft grass he made his way over to the quietly steaming water. Fine silk hissed softly as it slid freely from perfect white limbs to pool at his feet only to be abandoned as he walked away and into the warm waters. The setting sun painted his nude body with splashes of color that only complimented the deep magenta stripes that graced pale skin with splashes of vivid color.

He made his way across the spring to the spot he'd favored since he was a pup then sat down and did his best to let the warmth of the water that now covered him to the shoulders ease the tension from him.

It was easier said than done, though, since whenever he'd finally begun to relax his traitorous brain would speak up, presenting him with thoughts and ideas that were anything _but_ calming.

It was all Sephiroth's fault, really.

It had been about a week since the Daiyoukai had agreed to his mate's demand of equality, strange and somewhat disturbing as the concept still was to him; how could a pairing possibly work without a clear Alpha? Sephiroth - revealing a wickedly playful streak that seemed to surprise even himself at times - had then taken the oportunity to play and tease whenever they were together until Sesshoumaru could do nothing but want and crave more than just the bits and pieces he had been getting; craving more of something that he had never before desired, let alone ever considered.

Something else that was entirely Sephiroth's fault.

In that week or so, the two of them had grown much closer. Sephiroth had all but moved in to Sesshoumaru's room, though he did still keep his own and would until they were more sure of their relationship. Even then, he would still have his own room, only it would connect directly to Sesshoumaru's in what was known as the Lady's chambers even as his was known as the Lord's. It had once been his mother's chamber even as his own had once been his father's. Some of her things were actually still in there, and Sephiroth would be the one to look through them and decide what he wanted to keep or have put away into storage.

An internal smirk at the thought, accompanied by the irreverent mental image of his Sephiroth dressed in one of his lady Mother's many-layered formal kimono, his hair pulled up into a heavily waxed modern style, hair-sticks and ornaments sticking out in all directions in a pleasing array, the faintest traces of embarrassed pink highlighting the strong cheekbones. His glowing blue-green eyes would promise death even as the warrior struggled to move under the constricting weight of that many layers of heavily-embroidered silk, tiny bells chiming softly with every shortened step as he made his way across the floor to an equally uncomfortably-bedecked Sesshoumaru. At least the Lord's formal gear was not quite so impractical; merely a fancier version of his usual apparel in all but the most formal of occasions... like the upcoming announcement of his mating to the three other cardinal Lords. 

He knew that there would be at least a little fuss over his choice from them since his Sephiroth was neither demon nor female, but he and his mate would stand together and let them know that they would not be separated, that they would take on any and all oposition and crush it underfoot. After being with Sephiroth - through finding him, losing, and then regaining him - Sesshoumaru knew he was spoiled to all others. For him, it would be Sephiroth or no one. No female, no matter her breeding and pedigree, could ever hope to compare - no one else could ever make him feel like Sephiroth could with but a single glance from those captivating eyes.

All of which brought Sesshoumaru's attention right back to the problem at hand. Literally. The daiyoukai glared down into the murky water even as his hand closed firmly around his 'problem' and began to move.

They had explored each other that week, Sephiroth and he, neither of them quite ready for more yet. Which wasn't to say that things hadn't progressed, nor that they hadn't been intimate. 

In the carefully-guarded privacy of Sesshoumaru's room - _their_ room, or theirs soon enough - smooth, silky white skin had been stroked, caressed, kissed, licked, and nibbled on as they put their concealing clothing aside and bared themselves to each other. Mouthes and tongues had explored and been explored, hot, panting breath had been shared between them, filling each others' lungs. Differences - claws, fingers, ears, eyes, and stripes, among other things - had been explored and reveled in as had their unmistakeable similarities. Previously-unknown erogenous zones were found, teased, and exploited to their mutual pleasure and though neither had mounted the other that didn't mean that the thought had been forgotten, only put aside for a little.

Sesshoumaru remembered the first time that Sephiroth's probing finger had touched him in that most private of places one night even as his penis was being sucked deeply into the SOLDIER's throat. He remembered how he had instinctively stiffened in denial, clenching against the unexpected touch. If he hadn't been buried deep in Sephiroth's wickedly talented mouth, he was sure he would have shot off the futon in shock. But Sephiroth, knowing from the youkai's past words and actions just how difficult that simply allowing that most intimate touch would be for him, hadn't pressed for more, not then. He simply massaged the spot with surprisingly gentle fingers while doing his best to suck the daiyoukai's brains out through his cock - and doing an outstanding job.

It hadn't stopped there, of course.

It seemed that every time that Sephiroth swallowed his hard flesh, that startling touch went just a little further, pressed a little deeper, stretched him a little more, making Sesshoumaru subconsciously connect the prevously-unknown and unwanted feeling of penetration to the pleasure and euphoria that he was now experiencing along with it.

Not that Sephiroth's fingering was the only new experience for the flustered Lord. Having experienced the wonder that was burying himself in Sephiroth's throat, he had finally succumbed to the urge to return the favor only the night before, taking a penis - his Sephiroth's penis - into his mouth for the first time under his mate's quiet, patient guidance in an act that should have felt disturbingly submissive to the alpha youkai but somehow didn't. Instead he was filled with a sense of control and dominance as he - after a few false starts and an embarrassing graze of razor-sharp fangs - pleasured his mate, watching him lose control even as he suckled him into orgasm.

He tried to remember only the awe-inspiring sight of his Sephiroth lost in the height of pleasure and not his own embarrasing reaction to having the man's fluids erupting into his mouth in a torrent he really should have expected but somehow hadn't.

Yes, _that_ part was better off forgotten for the sake of his dignity if nothing else, though Sephiroth had told him repeatedly afterwards that it was all right, that there was nothing wrong with it.

Embarrassment aside, he had to admit that the gratingly submissive feeling that he'd expected to feel at the act had been quite conspicuous in its absence.

Maybe - somehow - a mounting would be the same?

But how could it be? It was the very essence of submission, wasn't it? How could the one being taken have any claim of control? Of 'equality', even? Wasn't it the simple physical proof of who was what in a pairing? One was the stronger, the protector, the dominant alpha male, and the other... well, _wasn't;_ weaker, protected, submissive as he'd never been in his life. Even when his great and terrible father had yet lived he had known that one day that power would be his; that one day his own power would surpass that of his sire and that on that day he would challenge him and win the right to his father's title and position. Until then, while he had submitted to his father's will he had never been submissive.

So _why_ , even as he pleasured himself with his newly-discovered favored long, tight strokes, did he almost ache with the craving for more? Why did he feel this almost hollow feeling inside, his neglected entrance all but crying out for something - for his Sephiroth - to fill it up and drive the consuming emptiness away?

He was no submissive, so why did he feel that way?

...And _why_ was his hand sliding away from his hard length to slide down his hip and - after a furtive glance around to be sure there was no one to witness such an unLordly act, hidden by the murky water though it would be - brush a clawed finger gently, almost delicately, over that private place known only to he and his mate? Almost eagerly it was sucked in, his finger slipping into his own depths with scant resistance almost before he realized what had happened. Another finger slipped in to join the first with only a slight twinge while he was still more than half-stunned over his own actions and that first unexpected intrusion.

_What_ was he _doing?_ Alone or not, surely he should not be doing _that_....

Sitting alone in his private hot spring - shared now with his mate - two of his long fingers thrusting in and out of his own entrance... what would his mighty father have had to say if he had caught his son in such an unLordly act?

And _why_ were his fingers not _enough?_ Why did every thrust only add to the craving for more instead of subduing it? Why was he finding himself wondering what it would be like... to have Sephiroth on top of him, behind him, mounting him? Would his mate's impressive endowment finally ease that unwanted craving deep inside?

He could hardly believe the turn his thoughts had taken, but even as he reluctantly withdrew his fingers, his hand closing once again on his own equally impressive hardness, bringing himself to orgasm with only a few more quick strokes, he knew that the decision, _his_ decision, was made.

Quickly, efficiently, he washed away the traces of both the day's light soil and his own completion.

Stepping out of the warm waters, he dried himself with a convenient towel then slipped into a soft silken sleeping yukata and made his way back to his room to await the arrival of his mate.

Resolve running through him with a certainty that he was sure would be sorely tested when the time came to follow through with his decision, he was determined that by the time the sun rose he would have the answers to his many questions.


	35. Chapter 35

Sephiroth finished his nightly inspection of the Palace defenses and left the wall with a brief nod to the guards on watch. They nodded back, used to his presence now and accepting as they hadn't been when he had first started walking the rounds a few days after Sesshoumaru had shaken him from his depression all those weeks ago.

The guards knew now that he didn't mean it as an insult to their competence or abilities; he simply didn't know them. He didn't know their training, their strengths or weaknesses, their power and abilities. They were entirely unfamiliar to him - though that was slowly changing as he took the time to observe them at drill every now and again - and they had to admit that they would likely do the same if _they_ were in a strange place, defended by strangers.

A brief stop at his room to pick up a sleeping robe - _yukata_ , he reminded himself - then he made his way down the night-quiet hallways and outside to the hot spring he shared with Sesshoumaru. There was water on the stones at one edge where the daiyoukai must have gotten out, the lingering warmth of the puddles telling him that he must have just missed him.

Sesshoumaru, his mate and lover.

Undressing, then easing himself down into the warm water, he allowed his mind to stray to his daiyoukai even as he reached for the bamboo container of soap and began to quickly, efficiently clean himself off.

Their intimacy had progressed faster than he would ever have believed possible since Sesshoumaru had accepted his demand for equality. He was doing his best to make it easier for him, to not push him faster than he was ready for, progressing in tiny increments toward his goal every time he took the demon's penis into his mouth. He shivered involuntarily despite the warm water at the memory of the few times his Sesshoumaru had returned the favor. The mere thought of that wet, sucking heat coupled with the unspoken threat of those razor-sharp fangs on his delicate flesh was enough to make his penis twitch and start to fill in anticipation. It grew even harder as he remembered how the daiyoukai had writhed and cried out with breathless pleasure only the night before as he took that engorged flesh deep in his throat, four of his fingers thrusting in and out of that deliciously spasming hotness, hitting the prostate with near pinpoint accuracy with every thrust until his mouth was flooded with the proof of Sesshoumaru's orgasm.

Between the pleasure he made sure to give his mate with every encounter and Sesshoumaru's own growing desire, he felt that he was making incredible progress. Maybe by the end of the next week he would once again try bringing up the question of whether or not he could replace his fingers with something a bit more intimate....

Finishing his bath, he rinsed himself off then got out of the pool. He dried himself with a convenient towel, then wrapped himself up in his sleepwear and made his way across the dew-wet grass to the doors that led into Sesshoumaru's quarters. He stepped up onto the covered porch, slid open the door with a quiet rattle, walked in, then closed it again before turning and sweeping the room with a glance.

Sephiroth froze, momentarily forgetting to breathe as he tried to process what his eyes were telling him.

He swallowed, hard, even as his penis hardened enough that it almost found its way out of the front of his yukata.

Sesshoumaru, his Sesshoumaru, lay on the futon, completely nude. His solitary hand was wrapped firmly around the thick column of his own aroused penis, stroking himself to further heights of arousal even as lust-reddened golden eyes - glazed slightly with pleasure, need, and a hint of uncertainty - met Sephiroth's stunned blue-green, long, lightly muscled legs spread in blatant invitation.

Sephiroth swallowed again, then slowly made his way across the floor to the futon, the unmistakable scent of aroused demon - aroused _Sesshoumaru_ \- filling his nose and driving his own need through the roof.

Though every purely male instinct he had was screaming at him to drop his robe and pounce before Sesshoumaru changed his mind, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to maintain control. He knelt on the floor beside the futon and reached out one hand to cup a flushed, rose-striped cheek.

"Sesshoumaru?" he asked gently.

**oOo**

By the time Sephiroth had bathed and arrived in their chambers, Sesshoumaru was barely coherent.

He hadn't meant to be. After his own bath he had returned to his chambers - _their_ chambers - in a strange state of post-orgasmic relaxation coupled with anticipation and nervousness. In an attempt to distract himself a little, he lit a couple of the lamps, enough to provide a little light but leave most of the room in shadow. He tidied up a bit, though it wasn't really necessary considering the thoroughness of the servants and his own innate tidiness.

It was about then that he heard the quiet splashing that meant that Sephiroth was in the spring. Nervous anticipation rolled over him again and he froze. What should he do? He had made his decision and he was standing by it, but he really had no idea how to go about doing that.

Should he go out and join his Sephiroth in the spring? It was something that they had done before, shared a bath, and lately it _did_ always seem to end in mutual pleasure, but....

In the end, fraying nerves wouldn't let him. He wasn't going back on his decision, no, but he couldn't make himself go out there and present himself for something he had never expected to want. And he did. He _did_ , really, because Sephiroth wanted it, wanted _him_ , wanted them to be equal and it wasn't being submissive if it was being equal - was it? - and he wanted Sephiroth and Sephiroth wanted him and this really wasn't helping him at all now was it?

Relax. He needed to relax a bit.

He went over and sat on the futon. After a moment, he scooted over to the middle, smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the silk of his yukata, and lay back to wait.

Sat back up only seconds later.

He should let Sephiroth know that he was willing - eager - to be with him, shouldn't he? He attacked the ties of his yukata with fingers that _weren't_ trembling, damn it, then took the garment off and put it away before taking his place once again in the center of the futon and trying to relax again, his eyes slipping closed.

They opened again only a few breaths later. Was he, just maybe, too relaxed? His body wasn't... it wasn't aroused, so what if Sephiroth saw him and thought that he only wanted to sleep? That wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted Sephiroth to... to... to....

Relax. _Breathe._

He got back up, had a cup of the warmed sake left there by the servants after he had left his study for the day, and tried to calm himself. It wasn't like him to panic or give in to his nerves like this! Somehow, though, knowing that didn't exactly help. At that point he doubted that he would be able to speak, to _tell_ Sephiroth what he had decided earlier, so how could he let him know...?

Then again, he hadn't said that it had to be _tonight_ that he would give Sephiroth his submission, that he would let his mate mount him. He had only decided that he _would._

Sesshoumaru took his place yet again in the center of his now slightly-mussed futon, then, feeling a little bolder with the realization that _it_ might not necessarily happen that night - though he vowed he wouldn't protest if it _did_ \- he reached down, trailing his fingers down his body until they reached the limp flesh between his legs and started to stroke gently. Mounting or not, he _was_ looking forward to sharing pleasure with his mate.

As it had in the bath, though, one thing led to another and by the time Sephiroth entered the room Sesshoumaru had not only lost his nervousness, but the anticipation and heat coursing through him barely let him remember that he had been nervous at all.

When Sephiroth came over - glowing blue-green eyes dilated, body practically reeking of arousal - and cupped the side of his face, surprisingly delicate fingers grazing the twin markings there, it was all that Sesshoumaru could do not to throw the man down and take what he had come to crave. Instead, he nuzzled the warm palm and reached up to pull his mate to him even as he spread his legs a bit wider in invitation.

He craned his neck upwards even as Sephiroth dipped his head and their lips met. The kiss was tentative at first, but all too soon it was an all-out battle of hot and wet, and tongue and kiss that seared away all thought in a thick blanket of want and need and mind-blowing pleasure.

**oOo**

Genesis could admit - to himself if to no other - that the sight of the reactor pool's condensed Mako rising up over the protective suit's visor was rather disconcerting, which was a bit odd if you considered how much time he had spent pickling in the stuff during his life. _That_ hadn't been like _this_ , though; the Mako used in the injections was heavily refined, and there was only enough actual Mako in a Mako tube to tint the fluid that distinctive green while the fluid itself was still transparent.

The condensed raw Mako in the reactor, by contrast, was a thick soup - almost a sludge, really - of opaque glowing green and slipping into it, able to see nothing but a wall of Mako, was enough to raise a spark of claustrophobia he'd never known he'd had.

He pushed it away with an effort; he wasn't going to let a bit of discomfort come between him and his goal. _He_ would be the one to find Sephiroth's body with its coveted cells! He would find it, get away with it, and _somehow_ Hollander would acquire the competence to use it to stop the degradation. Perhaps he would even manage to reverse it entirely, though the odds of that weren't too good given the quack's track record.

Degradation-grey _so_ wasn't his color.

He had to wonder, though, as he lowered himself down the cable, his sword - concealed against his back under his trooper's uniform - digging into him uncomfortably as he did, _why_ they had _all_ been ordered down that one cable. If they were searching the bottom - and how were they supposed to do that all but blind, anyway? By touch? Honestly! - shouldn't they be spread out? And how deep _was_ the pool, anyway? It seemed like he'd been going down for an awfully long time and-

_What the-?_

Genesis blinked, stared, Mako-blue eyes wide, at the verdant area he now found himself in. Looking up even as he touched ground, he saw the cable he had just come down going up, then abruptly coming to an end perhaps twenty feet into the air, swaying lightly from side to side. As he watched, a pair of boots appeared, the rest of the carefully-suited form appearing bit by bit out of nothing.

Unclipping himself from the cable, he looked around even as he started to peel off his own protective suit, taking in the grass, the beaten-dirt path, the strange trees on either side of it. He saw the SOLDIERs who had preceded him moving around in agitation, his enhanced hearing allowing his to eavesdrop enough to learn that one of them, the first SOLDIER to arrive, had gone missing. The only proof that he had been at all was there his opened phone lying in the grass and his sword lying abandoned just inside the edge of the woods.

All of which let him know that his goal of a quick snatch-and-grab had just gotten a lot more complicated. The SOLDIERs would be buzzing and on high alert for some time, and even if they weren't it would be that much more difficult to find Sephiroth's body wherever this was than it would be in the roughly sixty-foot diameter bottom of a reactor pool-

Wait.

If he was dead and ended up here, wouldn't his body still be here? Then again, it had been around two months. This close to a path, if animals hadn't dragged it away, surely any travelers would have seen it and - possibly - buried it somewhere? That would be, if not easy, at least _possible_ to track.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Genesis thought of yet another possibility.

Was he looking for Sephiroth's _body_ at all? 

Was it possible that, wounded as he was, Sephiroth might have _survived_ his fall into the reactor pool? That he had ended up wherever _here_ was? That he had healed and was now long gone?

Shit.

Maintaining his cover as just another faceless trooper as his agile mind sorted through the mountain of possiblities and obstacles he now faced, he helped the next few troopers get unhooked from the cable and unsuited - one barely waiting to get the suit off before hurtling for the bushes and decorating the ground with his lunch - then pitched in setting up base camp with the other regulars while the SOLDIERs made cautious forays into the edge of the woods and secured the area.

Camp shovel in hand, working alongside the other two who were also punished with him, Genesis tried to push away the feeling of desperation ticking down the minutes of his remaining time and focused on how much he had always hated digging the latrines.


	36. Chapter 36

Sesshoumaru broke the kiss only when he could no longer ignore his body's need for air. He didn't move far - they could both still feel the puffs of warm, humid breath on their lips as they panted for air - but somehow it was still much too far for their taste. It wasn't long before their few shared light, brushing kisses turned into dozens of slightly longer, deeper kisses snatched between pants for breath, each brush of hungry mouths threatening to turn into the kind of all-consuming devouring battle of lips, teeth, fangs, and tongues that had left them breathless in the first place.

Nor were their hands idle during that time. Sephiroth had the easiest time of it; Sesshoumaru's body already bared and wanting by the time he had arrived in their shared quarters, but Sesshoumaru had no problem with letting his claws do the talking as he quickly reduced his mate's yukata to just so many rags in his search for flesh. Hands roughened by years upon years of calluses from sword-work found pale, heated skin and slid over it. The barely-there scrape of neatly-trimmed nails and claws somehow heightened the feeling, making the already hot skin flush a lusty pink, sweat springing out in a slick film that made the glide just that much easier.

Any nerves that the daiyoukai had been plagued with had long since vanished under his Sephiroth's hands; one of which was even now running up and down the long length of his side, sliding just a little further with every pass, the other gently cupping a jaw and striped cheek before sliding back to bury itself in the strands of damp silver at his nape, dull nails scraping gently at his scalp in a way that should have felt irritating yet somehow didn't. 

His own solitary hand wandered over the solid chest before him, down the chiseled planes to the washboard abs, around to the side of his mate's ribcage before mimicking Sephiroth's own actions and sliding down his side and back up, viciously-clawed hand sliding over sweat-slick flesh with just enough pressure to _not_ be ticklish.

This much, at least, Sesshoumaru was familiar - comfortable - with. Many of their evenings of late had started out the same way; with them kneeling on the futon as they kissed and caressed, teasing each other unmercifully.

Equally familiar by now - though that familiarity in no way bred boredom! - was the way that Sephiroth guided him gently down to lie back on the soft surface even as one hand finally - finally! - closed around his penis and began to stroke. Just before the other man slid down his body to take him into his wickedly talented mouth, both hands closed over the daiyoukai's hips with the strength of steel as those same hips seemed to grow a mind of their own; bucking up, trying to get more of him into that warm, sucking cavern.

Also familiar by now was the way that one hand eased away from the hip it had held once the initial bucking was over and slid down; first to squeeze and caress his firm testicles, then sliding further down and back to tease his most private of places.

His own hand sliding down his body to tangle in silken silver strands so similar to his own, Sesshoumaru could not stop the hard blush that burned in his cheeks at Sephiroth's surprise when first one, then two probing fingers were swallowed up into him with very little effort on the SOLDIER's part. He watched glowing blue-green eyes dilate and almost glaze over as his mate realized what he had been doing earlier; that his weren't the only fingers to have visited the youkai's entrance that evening. Those unusual eyes met his own and he mentally cursed the embarrassment that had that damned blush growing darker, his ears burning, the color spreading until even his chest was almost rosy and leaving the SOLDIER with no doubt about what he had done.

"I..." he trailed off. What could he say? What _could_ he say that didn't sound like he was trying to deny it?

Sephiroth, fingers still working to stretch and prepare as always, let the daiyoukai's engorged length slip from his mouth with a kiss, though he didn't move very far. His breath blew warm across the sensitive skin as he spoke.

"I would love to watch you sometime," he said softly, almost huskily, meeting suddenly-wide golden eyes with his own glowing gaze. "I would love to watch you pleasure yourself for me, your fingers moving in and out of yourself as I lay here, watching and mirroring everything you do on my own body, just for you."

A harsh, breathless gasp escaped Sesshoumaru before he could prevent it, the image his Sephiroth's words had conjured dancing in his mind's eye. He forgot how to breathe even as his hand shot down, clamping firmly around the base of his penis in an effort to stave off orgasm. Oh, but the mere thought of it - of his Sephiroth watching as he performed such an embarrassingly lewd act, of _him_ watching _Sephiroth_ do the same - was far more arousing than he would ever have believed possible. The thought of his actions - actions that he had done for the first time not hours before - being mirrored by his mate--

His hand clenched tighter around himself, holding off his completion with an act of fractured will more than anything....

...Only to have his fingers loosened one by one by his mate, his Sephiroth, the other man murmuring only a quiet "It's all right. Let go. It will only make it easier" before swallowing him to the root.

It was only after he'd emptied himself with a strangled cry down that eager throat that the other man's words registered, along with the knowledge that those wicked fingers were still thrusting in and out of his most private of places; stretching and preparing and making sure to brush that spot inside often enough to completely derail his train of thought but not often enough to have him grow accustomed to it.

He was still lying there, body still limp from the powerful orgasm when he felt his legs being bent up at the knee and spread. Sephiroth's mouth left his still half-interested penis, his fingers slipping from Sesshoumaru's body even as they reached for more of the oil he had been using, giving his own erect penis a generous coating as he took his place between strong, lightly-muscled thighs.

Glowing blue-green eyes met dilated gold. "Are you ready?" he asked, his whole body trembling faintly with the need to bury himself in the tight heat that was oh-so-close.

Sesshoumaru, physically unable to tense up so soon after his orgasm, felt the butterflies return to his stomach in a rush even as his body flushed in anticipation, sweat springing out cold on his skin. No matter the sudden return of nerves, the daiyoukai nodded in reply to the query, not trusting his voice with the confusing mess of apprehension and anticipation running through him. He had made his decision, after all, and he was sticking to it.

He couldn't help but wonder, though, as he felt the first prodding of the blunt head of Sephiroth's penis at his entrance, if he really knew what he was doing. He was daiyoukai and Lord of the West! He should be the one doing the taking, not the one being taken...!

Sesshoumaru was so caught up in his mental battle against everything he had known as true before Sephiroth showed up in his life and upset everything that he barely felt the faint burn of unaccustomed muscle stretching in his well-prepared entrance, only realized that there was no more point debating whether he should allow it or not - despite having already decided - as Sephiroth stopped moving and he realized that while he had been distracted, his mate had taken the opportunity offered by his lack of protest and impaled him.

The realization stunned him, as did the fact that he felt no different than before. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He felt the strangely _full_ feeling and a slight burning as unaccustomed muscles stretched to allow the invasion, felt the shatteringly intimate feeling of his Sephiroth's hips pressed tightly up between his legs and against his bottom, his own legs wrapping firmly around his mate's waist and doing all that they could to pull him in closer, his ankles instinctively locking together behind Sephiroth's back.

He gasped as his mate withdrew slightly, only to thrust back in and hit that _something_ inside that made pleasure course through him like liquid fire even as his vision exploded in a mess of blinding light. He'd had that spot played with before by Sephiroth's talented fingers, but that was nothing compared to _this...!_

Another slow withdrawal, another hard thrust and this time Sesshoumaru rose to meet it; his hips lifting off the futon in welcome even as his legs - still firmly locked around Sephiroth's waist and hips - worked to pull him closer. His wickedly-clawed hand tangled in the silver strands of his mate's hair then abandoned them as his arm snaked around Sephiroth's back, claws leaving red scratches behind on the pale skin as he fought to pull him closer still.

Pressed tightly together, breathing each other's breath, tongues dancing and teasing in each other's mouths, bodies straining together in an effort to get _closer_ , thrust _deeper_ , push _harder_ , time was nothing but a blur.

Then it happened.

By that point Sesshoumaru was all but incapable of conscious thought, battered and buffeted by the pleasure and euphoria searing into every sense, eyes almost completely reddened. Sephiroth was no better off, his eyes glowing brightly as he worked to give his mate as much pleasure as he could, occasionally breaking the kiss to lightly lick and nip at the mark - _his_ mark - on an otherwise flawless shoulder, driven by some primal instinct from deep inside.

It snuck up on them without warning; one moment was filled with effort and need and the next--

The next, Sesshoumaru cried out breathlessly, crimson eyes unseeing, even as his entire body seized, muscle clenching tightly from head to toe as a world-shattering orgasm ripped through him, his semen spurting from him to cover their bellies and chests in hot fluids. Sephiroth followed almost immediately as his mate's delicious spasming closed tightly around him. A couple more thrusts into that clenching, searing heat was all it took and Sephiroth let go, his own cry muffled as he instinctively sank his teeth into his mark on Sesshoumaru's shoulder even as he thrust deep one last time and stiffened, filling his mate with his seed for the first time.

It was as they lay there, limp, breathless, and happily sated as they slowly recovered from the shattering orgasm that Sesshoumaru was struck by a revelation.

For all the brand-new and awesomely indescribable feelings that had surged through him one after the other, the one feeling he had been dreading before was even more conspicuous in its absence.

He felt the same as he always had.

Not defeated, not conquered, not submissive, and _definitely_ not female.

He was Sesshoumaru, daiyoukai and Lord of the Western Lands. The fact that he had had his Sephiroth's penis buried deep inside his body - and still did, for that matter - and the fact that he had loved every moment of it, didn't change that one bit.

He was still Sesshoumaru.


	37. Chapter 37

One might think that that would be the end of it. Sesshoumaru was reassured of the truth of Sephiroth’s insistence on equality, and pleasantly surprised to find that being mounted by his mate was going to be nothing like the unpleasant but necessary chore he’d feared it might be. Sephiroth was satisfied that the daiyoukai saw him as equal in their mating, that their few false starts were due to assumptions and cross-cultural misunderstanding rather than any real substance.

They had finally cleared up their misunderstandings, taken their relationship that last step into true intimacy where neither one was above or below the other but truly equal.

One might think that having managed that great feat anything else would take care of itself for a while and let them spend their early days reveling in each other.

One would be wrong.

Barely hours after they had finally fallen into deep sated slumber, both at least passably cleaned up but scratched, bitten, and pleasantly sore in enough places to look like they’d been through at least a minor battle, there was a knock at the door.

One golden eye slid partially opened, looking blearily around for a moment before sliding closed once more, an uncharacteristic sound of protest escaping the comfortable daiyoukai even as he pressed tighter into his mate’s sleeping embrace, pressing his face back into the curve of his Sephiroth's neck and shoulder, body relaxing once more.

Sleep had nearly claimed him once more when the knocking came again, this time accompanied by Jaken's call.

“Lord Sesshoumaru? Important news from near the borders, my Lord! Lord Sesshoumaruuuuuuuuuuu-!”

Sephiroth stirred beside him, arms briefly tightening around the body they held, strong chest rising with a deep breath before it was let back out in a short gust that stirred the demon’s snowy locks. “Persistent bastard, isn't he?” he said, voice heavy with the lingering traces of sleep.

“Hmm,” Sesshoumaru hummed in agreement. Jaken definitely was that. Actually, that was one of the reasons he kept him around.

Even so, he wouldn't mind him being a bit _less_ persistent just then. Couldn't they have one single night to celebrate the earth-shattering revelation? It wasn’t every day that your entire world-view was proven wrong, in the most delicious way possible.

More knocking. “Lord Sesshoumaru?”

“He isn’t going to go away, is he?” Sephiroth groused, both eyes open now, staring sleepily down into golden.

Sesshoumaru let out a gusty sigh of his own, his arm tightening briefly where it lay wrapped around his mate. “No,” he agreed regretfully.

Sephiroth nodded, then leaned in to share a brief kiss between still-swollen lips before starting to shift in preparation for getting up. “We might as well see what he wants, then,” he said simply, pushing back the lingering sleepiness with an effort.

Sesshoumaru nodded, sitting up himself. A small grimace as he found himself a bit more... sore... than he had anticipated. He hadn't really noticed while lying down comfortably, but now that he actually had to move... It was not enough to hider him, not really, and he knew that there had really been no avoiding it, not considering the unaccustomed activity those muscles had been put to earlier that night. 

His Sephiroth had tried to warn against a repeat experience, at least that first night, but he had been determined. After that first time, still himself and no lesser than he had been before, he’d been determined to make up to Sephiroth all the emotional pain he had unthinkingly inflicted on him. Not being one for words when actions could show his meaning instead, and still buzzing with the pleasure his Sephiroth had given him, that chain of thought followed along to its natural conclusion. Several times.

He could not hold back the quiet hiss as he stood, held still for a moment to grow accustomed to the throbbing of his lower back and backside. He looked up as a hand landed on his lower back, its warmth sinking into sore muscle and soothing them slightly.

“Sore?” the man asked softly.

Sesshoumaru hesitated, then nodded slightly. This was his mate, he didn't have to hide his state from him. “Somewhat,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m not.”

***

Up and dressed - passably enough, though still nowhere near their usual high standards - Sesshoumaru and Sephiroth made their way through the night-dimmed hallways to the daiyoukai's study where the report sat waiting pride-of-place on the main table.

Jaken entered the room moments after they arrived, a servant with a pot of tea following dutifully behind. She set the tea down and served the two lords before bowing out of the room and sliding the door closed behind her.

Sipping absentmindedly at his tea, he broke the seal and read the missive over, Sephiroth doing the same at his side. He felt anger take hold, banishing the last heavy traces of sleep. Jaken, annoying and ill-timed as he was, had been right to call him from his bed.

One of the villages on the edge of his domain - the very village whose actions had led to him finding and meeting his Sephiroth, at that - had apparently been completely obliterated. Granted, it was a human village and generally beneath his notice but it was still _in_ his domain; such an assault could not go unpunished.

“I must attend to this,” Sesshoumaru said softly. “The assault on this Sesshoumaru's territory will not be tolerated.”

“I understand,” Sephiroth said. “I can help-”

“Unnecessary. I mean to investigate the area and eliminate those responsible. This Sesshoumaru is more than capable of defending what is his.”

“I am not doubting you. It would simply go quicker if there were two of us. Also,” he added softly, for Sesshoumaru's ears only, “I don’t want to be far from you.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes softened slightly. “Nor do I,” he admitted softly, “but this is part of this Sesshoumaru’s duties as Lord of the West. I will not be gone long, my mate. It was likely done by a group of human bandits, or lesser youkai that didn’t realize they had strayed into this Sesshoumaru's territory. I will go, eliminate the threat, and return.”

Sephiroth nodded simply, accepting his mate's assessment of the situation. “I will wait, then.”

***

It was more than a little disturbing.

Though he was more than happy to finally escape KP duty with its seemingly endless supply of dirty dishes, boxes of powdered potato substitute and simulated onion flakes, the reason behind it left him more than a bit concerned.

Standing guard over the main camp with the two he was still being punished alongside, Genesis could almost hear the clock ticking his time away even as he was forced to admit it probably wasn't a good time to slip away from the rest and strike out on his own.

They’d been there, in the so-called Promised Land, for five whole days. Five days. _Five!_

Only five days, and already _something_ out there - something they couldn't see, couldn't find, something that left no trace - had taken out four SOLDIERs. Second-class SOLDIERs, yes, but the ease with which they were taken - most with barely a yelp - was still enough to make him nervous.

After the first SOLDIERs went missing, a group of both SOLDIERs and regulars had gone down to the village they’d spotted during their initial reconnaisance, returning hours later empty-handed but smelling of blood and smoke.

Since then, two more had vanished and everyone was visibly on-edge and extra-vigilant - not that it helped.

It seemed his search for Sephiroth would have to wait.

Or not....

Walking boldly up the path as if he had every right to both be there and approach the heavily-armed encampment like it was nothing, was a man.

Tall, obviously well-built despite the loose, billowing Wutai-style clothing and odd armor he wore, with long hair shining white in the sun and a self-confident arrogance that even a regulation helmet’s piss-poor optics couldn't disguise.

That height, that hair, it could only be one man.

Sephiroth.

Here, now.

Those cells were as good as his, Genesis thought as he, like the rest of the regulars, put aside their normal guns in favor of the tranq guns as they were ordered. He chambered a dart, lifted the gun and took aim.


End file.
